CHAPTER 11
Rick put the Dodge Ram 1500 in park, and killed the engine; he climbed out of the truck, unslung the M4A1 rifle from the driver's seat, and walked around the front towards his sullen scout and second-in-command. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.
Daryl remained seated on the highway's guardrail and grunted positively at Rick's question, but truthfully, he was still upset about the group's leader interrupting his daydream about a wild, lustful weekend with Carol at the El Dorado casino.
The sun was sinking behind the Atlanta skyline as Rick studied the El Dorado: About fifty vehicles remained in the parking lot; several of them had crashed near the lot's exit in an obvious attempt to escape. There was a large fountain in the casino's courtyard; the water had stopped running long ago. But what really caught Rick's attention were the dozens of walkers staggering about like shadows, and had noticed that live prey was now on the highway above them.
Michonne opened the Dodge Ram's passenger door and climbed out with her sheathed katana in hand. Carl put his battered Stetson hat on his head, opened the rear passenger door and climbed out, his Beretta 92FS pistol with its attached aluminum bat suppressor was in his hand.
The bread truck and the Chevy Silverado rolled up one behind the other and came to a stop behind the Dodge Ram.
Michonne slung her katana over her back as she walked over to Rick, Carl was by her side.
"Cool," Carl said in awe as he looked wide-eyed at the modern Aztec pyramid.
"Yeah, I remember the TV news saying it was going to be the grandest casino ever built in the U.S.," Rick said, as he took a second look at the El Dorado.
Michonne glanced down at Carl and smiled, amused that a child could still be awed by an architectural marvel.
The doors to the bread truck and the Silverado opened, and their occupants climbed out. The doors nearly shut in unison, and Tyreese, Karen, John, Juan, Floyd, and Sam walked towards Rick's small group. Daryl—now irritated by the sight of the six Woodburians—huffed angrily as he stood up from the guardrail and walked past Rick and Michonne to stand alongside Carl.
An impressed John whistled when he saw the darkening casino. "I saw pictures of the model on the internet; I was looking forward to losing some of my social security here once its doors opened."
Rick raised an eyebrow and looked at John. "You've been on the Internet?"
John glared at Rick. "Yes, I have," he spat, "I'm old, not a fossil."
"Well, you better not be too old to follow my orders," Rick said firmly.
"If you want me to be a team player, Rick, I'll step up to the plate and belt one out of the park," John replied as he adjusted his Atlanta Braves cap atop his head.
The two leaders glared at each other with ice cold intensity.
"Hey, are those…biters down there?" Sam asked as he pointed a shaky finger down at the parking lot.
The two groups (with the exception of Rick), looked down at the shadows staggering around the parking lot; a few moments later, their low growls rose up to the highway. Tyreese put his arm around Karen's shoulder, and she put her arm around his waist.
"Yeah, they're walkers," Daryl answered as he grinned at Sam. "You want to mosey down there and say 'Howdy'?"
Sam gulped, looked back at the walkers on the parking lot, and pulled the Country Gentleman hat down over his bruised face.
"What're we going to do?" Karen asked as she looked from John to Rick.
Rick looked over his left shoulder and looked at the sun, sinking between the Marriott Marquis and the SunTrust Plaza. "We've got three…five minutes before we're in total darkness. We've got to go down there, fight our way through the walkers, and get inside the casino."
"Oh, hell no!" Floyd shouted.
"I'm not going down there!" Sam cried as he shook his head.
"Shut the hell up before I throw your ass over the side," Daryl whispered angrily to Sam.
Sam bit down on his knuckles and closed his eyes, tears seeped out from between his eyelids.
"Daryl's right. They've spotted us. They could head our way any second," Michone said.
Carl began to tremble and the pistol in his hand felt heavy as a cannon. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Michonne looked down at Carl and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I guess shooting them is out of question, huh, Rick?" John snapped.
"Yes, it is," Rick answered as he glared at John. "We'll have to take them hand-to-hand."
Michonne squeezed Carl's shoulder gently; the boy looked up curiously at the mysterious swordswoman. "I've got this," she nodded to him.
Carl blinked in confusion. "What?" he asked.
Michonne, pulled the hood of her cape over her dreadlocks, walked past Carl and Daryl, and entered the exit ramp.
Carl now realized what Michonne had meant and his eyes widened with fright. "No, Michonne!" he shouted.
Rick's pulse quickened at the sound of Carl's scream and he looked down at this son. When Rick saw that Carl was looking to his left, he looked in that direction too and saw Michonne walking down the exit ramp, with her sheathed katana hanging from her back and her hooded cape fluttered lightly behind her.
"Michonne! Come back! We need to make a plan first!"
"There's no time for that," Miconne answered calmly as she continued on her way.
"Fuck! I ain't lettin' her go it alone!" Daryl shouted as he swung his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow over his back and ran to his Triumph Bonneville chopper motorcycle.
"Goddamnit, Daryl, we need a plan!" Rick shouted.
Daryl ignored Rick; he mounted his motorcycle, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. He flicked the light switch, and the headlight shown a beam of light along the darkening exit ramp that led to the El Dorado.
Daryl looked over his shoulder at Tyreese and shouted, "Hey, Thor! How about puttin' that hammer to good use?!"
Tyreese'e eyes widened and he pointed at himself. "Me?" he replied in disbelief.
Daryl didn't bother to respond to the former pro football player. Instead, he reeved up his motorcycle, swiped the kickstand with his foot, and rode his motorcycle down the exit ramp slowly.
Michonne heard the approaching motorcycle and looked to her left as she continued walking down the exit ramp. Daryl rode up alongside her and nodded, Michonne nodded back, Daryl revved the motorcycle again and sped onto the parking lot.
The walkers on the parking lot growled angrily and hungrily. Michonne stepped onto the parking lot, reached over her shoulder, and unsheathed her katana. The last rays of sunlight caught the blade and a flash of bright light cut through the darkness.
Up on the highway, Tyreese watched as Michonne and Daryl prepared to confront the walkers; he then turned towards Karen. "What should I do?" he asked.
"You told me your only job now is to keep people alive, so…go help them," Karen answered.
Tyreese nodded, offered Karen his Mossberg 500 shotgun and she took it. Tyreese then drew the framing hammer hanging at his side, and ran towards the exit ramp. Karen looked on with pride.
Rick and Carl watched as Michonne and Daryl prepared to fight the walkers on the parking lot. "Dad, we've got to do something!" Carl urged worriedly.
"I know, son. We're the only ones with suppressors, so—"
"Any orders, General Westmoreland?" John asked sarcastically.
Rick looked to his right and saw John, standing nearby with his hand resting on the grip of his Colt M1911A1 pistol holstered by his side. Floyd, Sam, and Juan stood behind him; all three looked nervous.
Rick glared at John, walked over to him, and pointed a finger at him. "Yeah, I've got orders for you: get back in your vehicle, follow me down to the parking lot, and don't fire a shot. Understand?"
John glared at Rick for a few moments and said, "Perfectly."
Rick turned around and walked towards the Dodge Ram 1500. "Let's go, Carl," he said as he unslung the M4A1 rifle from his shoulder.
Carl glared at John and wrapped his finger around the trigger of his pistol as he ran over to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door, climbed inside, and closed it.
Rick opened the driver's side door, climbed inside, slung his rifle over the driver's seat, closed the door, and turned the key; the truck's engine rumbled to life, and Rick turned the headlight switch, and drove slowly down the exit ramp.
John watched angrily as Rick and Carl vanished from sight, then watched as Karen (with her own M4A1 rifle slung over her shoulder, and holding Tyreese's shotgun in her hand) ran to the bread truck, climbed in, started it, and followed them down the exit ramp.
"What're we going to do, John?" Floyd asked.
"Shut the fuck up. Follow me. And no shooting," John huffed angrily as he turned around and walked towards the Chevy Silverado.
Floyd, Sam, and Juan looked at each other nervously, and followed their leader.
•••
Daryl pointed his motorcycle's headlight at the approaching walkers so he and Michonne could see them clearly in the growing darkness. He turned the key, killing the motorcycle's engine, and glanced to his right and saw Michonne walk up alongside him with her katana at her side. "Don't get in front of my crossbow," he warned her.
"Got it," Michonne said as she raised her katana and held it with both hands.
Daryl dismounted from his motorcycle, unslung his crossbow from his back, and moved to his left as he raised the weapon to his shoulder and took aim at the approaching walkers; the first one to fill his iron sights was male and wore a bloody shirt and pants, and its left arm had been torn off.
Daryl squeezed the trigger.
THUNK!
The arrow struck the walker in its forehead; the dead walker froze for a moment, and then it fell onto its back.
Having killed his first walker on this food run, Daryl aimed the crossbow's barrel at the ground, slipped his foot into the stirrup, pulled the string back until it was cocked, and slipped his foot out of the stirrup. He held the crossbow in his hands, took an arrow from the quiver, and loaded it onto the flight groove.
Michonne took a few steps to her right so she could swing her katana without striking Daryl's motorcycle. A black female walker, that had once been an Atlanta police officer staggered towards her.
Michonne brought her katana down on the female walker's head.
SHUKK!
The katana sliced through the female walker's head and exited below its right ear. The dead female walker fell onto its left side and a moment later the right half of its skull and brain landed at its feet.
Daryl raised his crossbow to his shoulder again and aimed at a male walker who had chunks of flesh bitten off him like a chocolate Easter Bunny.
THUNK!
The arrow struck the half-eaten walker's forehead; it froze, fell to its knees, and collapsed onto its right side.
A skeleton walker with pieces of rotting flesh spread across its frame growled hungrily as it staggered towards Michonne, who shook her head with disgust and a moment later, swung her katana at the skeleton.
WHUKK!
The skeleton walker's skull burst like a piñata when the katana struck it; Michonne shut her eyes as bone, bits of flesh, dark blood, and brain matter flew everywhere. A moment later, the dead skeleton walker collapsed at Michonne's feet. Michonne took a few steps backwards, and opened her eyes and looked down to see the walker blood and remains hanging off her hooded cape.
"Oh, fuck! My bike!" Daryl cried.
Michonne looked over at Daryl and saw the shocked expression on his face; she then looked at his motorcycle, and saw the handlebars; the gun belt wrapped around them, the headlight, and front tire were covered in the skeleton walker's dark blood and brain matter. "Sorry," she shrugged.
Daryl cursed his breath as he faced the walkers and raised his crossbow to take aim; the walker that filled the iron sights this time was a male wearing a soiled business suit and had its tie wrapped loosely around its right hand; three fingers had been bitten off.
THUNK!
The arrow struck the business walker right between the eyes and it collapsed to the ground like it had slipped on a wet spot in the office hallway.
"Hey, wait for me!" a voice shouted from behind Michonne.
Michonne looked over her shoulder and saw Tyreese running down the exit ramp with his framing hammer in his hand. Michonne shook her head with contempt at Tyreese for finally coming down from the highway to help her and Daryl kill the walkers.
Tyreese ran onto the parking lot and continued running towards Michonne, who held her sword high in preparation to strike two walkers staggering towards her. Tyreese ran forward, and for a moment he felt like was back on the football field, about to sack the quarterback.
Tyreese brought his hammer down on an elderly male walker that wore a medical ID bracelet on his left wrist.
KRAK!
The hammer shattered the top of old male walker's head and penetrated the brain. Tyreese pulled the hammer out of the dead walker's skull, and a stream of dark blood along with bits of brain matter flew out afterwards. The dead walker fell backwards and landed on the ground with a light thud.
The second walker was a young Latina, and it wore an open blouse that revealed a bra and a bite mark on its right hip. Michonne simply thrust her katana at the walker's face.
SHUKK!
The point of the katana went through the female Latina walker's mouth and exited the back of its head along with a stream of blood and bits of brain matter. The dead Latina walker froze with its limbs stretched out at its sides, and Michonne stepped forward, placed her left hand on the dead walker's shoulder, and used it as leverage to pull her sword free, and the dead Latina walker collapsed to the ground.
"Damn," Tyreese gasped in shock as Michonne shook the blood and gore off her blade.
Michonne glared up at the former NFL player. "You better get used to this," she advised.
"Keep movin'! Vamos!" Daryl shouted.
Michonne and Tyreese looked to their left and saw that Daryl was ahead of them slightly; he had his foot on the chest of one of the walkers he had killed, and he bent down, grabbed the arrow sticking out of the walker's forehead, and pulled it free.
Michonne looked forward and the beam coming from the headlight on Daryl's motorcycle showed that the rest of the walkers that seemed so distant a few moments ago, were now staggering closer and growling louder for live flesh.
Michonne held her katana in a combat stance and glanced at Tyreese. "Come on!" she shouted.
"Yeah, but…" Tyreese stammered.
Michonne was already running forward, while Daryl was retrieving his second arrow. Tyreese took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his hammer, and ran to catch up.
•••
The sun had set behind the Atlanta skyline, and the dim light of the moon and the stars filled the night's sky. Rick drove the Dodge Ram 1500 down the dark exit ramp slowly as he and Carl watched their friends ran up the lane to fight the next group walkers.
"Look over there, Dad!" Carl shouted as he pointed excitedly.
Rick squint his eyes and saw the shadowy images of a dozen walkers staggering out of a row of parked vehicles on the left side of the parking lot.
"Are we going to shoot them?" Carl asked, holding up his Beretta M92 with attached aluminum bat suppressor.
Rick shook his head. "No," he answered.
"What?!" Carl cried in disbelief. "Then what are we going to do?!"
Rick grinned and looked at his son. "Put your seatbelt on, Carl."
Carl's eyes widened when he realized what his father was planning. "Oh, shit," he said as he placed his gun in the passenger door well, and buckled his seatbelt.
"And don't curse," Rick ordered.
Rick drove the Dodge Ram 1500 onto the parking lot and stepped on the gas pedal. The engine roared as the truck sped past Daryl's motorcycle and into the next lane. The walkers had staggered past the row of parked vehicles stopped in their tracks when they were caught in the headlights of the speeding truck.
Rick gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles were bone white.
The speeding truck slammed into the walkers like a bowling ball into a rack of ten pins.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Walkers flew back several feet, or they went flying over the truck's hood, its cab and landed in its wake, or they were knocked to the ground and made sickening popping sounds as their bodies, limbs, and heads were crushed under the truck's wheels.
•••
In the lane to the right, Daryl (who had recovered his three arrows), Michonne, and Tyreese stopped moving forward and watched as Rick drove the truck through the group of walkers that were approaching on their blind spot; the walkers in front of them surprisingly stopped moving and watched as the truck rolled through their comrades too.
"Good job, Rick," an impressed Michonne whispered.
"Where are those Woodbury motherfuckers?!" Daryl wondered angrily as he turned around to look up at the highway.
"Uh, they're on their way…I think," Tyreese answered, looking up at the highway too.
Daryl snorted in contempt and ran back to his motorcycle. "Well, I'm gettin' my bike before Sgt. Rock and Easy Company crush it!"
Michonne watched Daryl for a moment, and then she turned around and saw the walkers in front of her and Tyreese had gotten over Rick's surprise attack and growled hungrily at her and Tyreese. "Get ready," she told the former NFL player.
Tyreese faced the approaching walkers and took a breath to strengthen his resolve. The closest walker was a male that's mouth and hands were covered in dry blood. Tyreese brought his hammer down on the walker's head.
KRAK!
The hammer smashed the top of the walker's head like a plate, and destroyed the brain underneath it. The dead walker fell and when its head hit the ground, it broke open and its crushed brain shot out in pieces.
A male walker snapped its jaws at Michonne like a mad dog. Michonne stood her ground and brought her katana down on the walker's head.
THROK!
The katana cut through the top of the male walker's head and came to a stop at the bridge of its nose. The dead walker fell to its knees, so Michonne placed a foot on the walker's shoulder for leverage and pulled her katana out of the walker's split head. Michonne took her foot off the walker, and it hit the ground face first.
"Fuck," Daryl grumbled as he looked at the walker blood and brain mater on the handlebars of his motorcycle. Daryl stepped over to the saddlebags, and stuck his recovered arrows inside one of them; a moment later he heard an engine start on the highway, and he looked up to see Karen driving the bread truck down the exit ramp slowly. "It's about damn time," he grumbled.
Daryl slung his crossbow over his back, and then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out the rag he used to clean off his arrows, and used it to clean off the motorcycle's headlight and handlebars; he left the soiled rag onto the clean handlebars, then he grabbed the handles, swiped the motorcycle's kickstand with his foot, and walked forward while pushing his motorcycle alongside him.
•••
"Wow! Did you see Michonne kill that walker, Dad?" Carl asked excitedly.
Rick looked and saw a walker on its knees and Michonne pulling her katana out its head like she would a kitchen knife through a sliced tomato. "Uh, I'm afraid I missed it, Carl," he admitted.
"Dad, look!" Carl shouted as he pointed ahead.
Rick looked at the direction Carl was pointing: it was about where the casino's fountain would be, and there were shadows shuffling into the beams of light cast by the truck's headlights.
"Hold on, Carl," Rick ordered as he stepped on the truck's gas pedal again.
Rick sped the Dodge Ram along the upper half of the lane, and then he spun it towards the right and through a gap in the parked vehicles. Michonne and Tyreese leapt back in surprise as the Dodge Ram cut in front of them and sped towards the walkers staggering towards them. The new walkers froze in place just like their comrades in the opposite lane did earlier.
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
The Dodge Ram ran through and over the walkers; Rick drove the truck around the water fountain in the courtyard's center and slammed his foot on the break. He and Carl sat in the truck's cab and looked out the truck's window's cautiously.
They saw no walkers standing on the courtyard.
Rick put the truck in park, turned off the headlights, killed the engine, and took the keys out of the ignition. "Wait here," he ordered Carl.
Carl looked at his father and nodded.
Rick reached into the truck's open console and took out his Glock 19 pistol and attached Maglite suppressor; he opened the driver's side door, climbed out, and pointed his pistol into the moonlight.
There were no more walkers on the courtyard.
Rick climbed into the truck's cab, looked at Carl, and said, "Clear."
Carl nodded, reached into the passenger door well, took out his Beretta 92FS pistol with attached aluminum bat silencer; he opened the passenger door, climbed out, and shut the door behind him.
Rick reached for his M4A1 rifle slung over the driver's seat; he unslung the rifle, climbed out of the truck, and shut the driver's side door, at the same moment Carl ran around to the driver's side and stood beside him.
"Rick!" Michonne shouted from behind him and Carl.
Rick and Carl turned around and saw Michonne and Tyreese running onto the courtyard.
"Are you both all right?" Michonne asked as she pulled down her hood.
Rick looked down at Carl, who shrugged like they were deciding what fast food chain they were going to for lunch. "We're fine," Rick answered as he looked at Michonne. "What about you two?"
A nervous Tyreese replied with a shaky thumbs-up. Michonne looked down at her hooded cape, and saw it was still caked with the dark blood and fragments of the skeleton walker she had killed earlier. "It's not my blood," she answered.
"I thought not," Rick retorted with a grin.
A beam of light hit the group suddenly; they spun around, shielded their eyes, and saw a figure walking towards them while pushing a motorcycle alongside him.
"Ya'll want to stay out here and tell ghost stories, or are we gettin' the hell inside that damn casino?" Daryl asked as he turned off his motorcycle's headlight and walked onto the courtyard.
Rick handed his pistol to Carl; then he slung his M4A1 rifle over his back, reclaimed his pistol, and looked at the parking lot to see the bread truck and the Chevy Silverado slowly headed towards them. "As soon as John and the others join us," he answered.
Daryl swiped his motorcycle's kickstand down onto the courtyard, let go of the motorcycle's handles, and bent down to retrieve the three used arrows he placed inside the saddlebags. "We should've left 'em in Woodbury, pickin' their noses," he grumbled.
Tyreese took an aggressive step towards Daryl. "Hey, redneck. My sister, Karen and I are with that group!"
Daryl looked Tyreese over and snorted in contempt. "Yeah, you've been a big help."
"You son of a bitch!" Tyreese shouted as his eyes flared with anger and he raised his hammer over his head.
"No!" Rick shouted as he lunged for Tyreese's arm and somehow managed to pull it down to the former NFL player's side.
Daryl didn't even flinch at Tyreese's attempted attack.
"Stop it…the both of you!" Rick ordered as he looked up at Tyreese and over his shoulder at Daryl. "We're here for the supplies! If either of you can't agree with that, you'll stay out here and guard the vehicles!"
Tyreese nodded bashfully. Daryl took the soiled rag from his motorcycle's handlebars and began to wipe one of the used arrowheads clean.
The bread truck and the Dodge Silverado drove onto the courtyard; their headlights and engines were switched off and their occupants climbed out with their weapons.
John drew his Colt M1911A1 pistol and walked over to Rick and the prison group. John's own Woodbury group followed behind him.
The two leaders glared at each other for a moment. "What now?" John asked.
"We go inside," Rick answered as he pointed towards the El Dorado's main entrance.
Rick looked down at Carl and gave him a stare that reminded his son to stay by his side. Carl looked up at his father and nodded.
Rick looked at Michonne, who unsheathed her katana and nodded. Rick looked at Daryl, who took a moment from loading the cleaned arrows into the crossbow's quiver to nod, too.
"Let's go," Rick said as he held his Glock 19 pistol with Maglite suppressor and began to move forward slowly.
Carl flicked the safety to his Beretta 92FS pistol to the "off" position, and took a few quick steps to catch up with his father.
Michonne held her katana low and at her side, and started walking forward slowly.
Daryl loaded the last clean arrow into the crossbow's quiver and dropped the soiled rag to the ground. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and glared at Tyreese. "After you," he quipped as he gestured towards the El Dorado.
Tyreese grumbled but slid his framing hammer into its holder; he took the Mossberg 500 shotgun from Karen and began walking forward. Karen gave Daryl a puzzled look as if she wondered what happened to make the two men enemies, and walked alongside the former NFL player with her M4A1 rifle at the ready.
Daryl watched Tyreese and Karen follow Rick, Carl, and Michonne; then he looked at John. "Saddle up. Lock and load," he quipped.
"Don't give me any shit, Dixon. I served my country," John spat.
"Yeah, I know. You remind me every fuckin' chance you get."
John snorted in contempt and turned around to face Floyd, Sam, and Juan. "We're in one hell of a fix, boys. First, we've got a sheriff's deputy from some backwoods town leading us; and second, we've got Merle's baby brother sniffing out trouble for him to lead us into!"
Sam chuckled nervously with his Beretta 92FS pistol in hand. "No shit. Maybe we were better off with the Governor!"
"And if your chicken-livered ass was with the Governor, he'd have shot if off along with your other pals," Daryl retorted as he glared at Sam.
Sam turned pale and pulled the brim of his slouch hat down over his face.
Juan looked down at the ground and his heavy Remington 870 shotgun dangled at his side as he remembered the night he followed the Governor up the hill to greet the camp of survivors.
"Hey, what's going on back there?" Rick called from the main entrance.
John glared at Daryl one last time and looked at his group. "Come on," he grumbled as he gestured with his hand.
Daryl watched as John and the four Woodburians walked past, then he turned towards his motorcycle. Before leaving the prison, he'd wrapped his gun belt around the motorcycle's handlebars, and inside the holster was his Colt Official Police revolver. Daryl thumbed off the holster's strap, drew the revolver, and placed it against the small of his back. Daryl then unslung his crossbow off his shoulder, and held the weapon at the ready as he walked forward cautiously to rejoin the others outside the closed doors of the El Dorado.