CHAPTER 20
Harold leapt inside the El Dorado's vestibule just as the .357 bullet from Rick's Colt Python revolver punched a hole into his open jacket and continued on to strike the top step. Harold hit those small steps with a hard thud, but he ignored the pain from his landing; he grasped his MK 18 Mod 0 assault carbine tightly, and scrabbled up the small steps.
Harold entered the lobby and saw Sora holding Rick's son by the collar of the kid's jacket. Miyaguchi looked at Harold, and the truck driver could tell by his icy expression that his leader knew what just happened outside.
"Frankie…Frankie's dead," Harold gasped.
"What about Officer Grimes?" Sora asked.
Harold looked at Sora incredulously. "Did you fucking hear me?" he asked. "Frankie's dead!"
"I did hear you and I do not care." Sora answered. "Now, is Officer Grimes dead?"
"No."
Sora glared at Harold, while Carl smiled confidently.
Harold looked down at the luggage that the El Dorado group had left at the entrance. He remembered choosing a Dodge Grand Caravan for his group to use for the journey to the prison, and the brief argument Frankie had with Rick out in the courtyard.
"What about our stuff?" Frankie asked angrily.
"We'll load the supplies first. Then we'll break open the Dodge, load up the luggage and get the engine started," Rick answered.
No one would touch that luggage again.
Sora's plan to kill Rick had gone to hell. After getting the drop on Rick, the Japanese gambler changed the plan to include killing Daryl and Michonne, but the El Dorado group rebelled against their leader. One of the men from Juan Zavala's group was dead, Sora had taken Rick's son hostage, and Frankie was just killed with a bullet in his chest. Now, a herd of the dead were staggering slowly towards the El Dorado.
BRAKKA! BRAKKA! BRAKKA!
Harold spun around at the sound of the automatic gunfire. From the rise the lobby was built on, he couldn't see what was happening in the courtyard, but he guessed Alonso, Nate, and Julia were with the prison group and the Woodbury group firing into the herd. Harold also knew that they'd soon be overrun, and then the herd would continue on, and they'd kill Rick and Michonne, and afterwards they'd enter the El Dorado, and they'd find and kill Sora, the kid, and himself.
I knew we'd all fucking die, Harold thought sadly.
Harold looked up at Sora and saw he was now walking across the lobby. Carl struggled to break free, but Sora stopped, shook the boy to keep him compliant and resumed walking.
Harold glared at Sora and followed after him. "Frankie's death doesn't matter to you, huh?" he spat contemptuously.
"No," Sora answered without stopping to look at Harold.
"Well, maybe this will matter to you: Those geeks are about to tear apart my friends and Rick's people; next it'll be Rick and Michonne, and after that they'll walk into your casino and do the same to you, me, and the kid."
Sora walked past the large palm tree and turned around; he glared at Harold for a few moments and said, "Mr. Singleton, it sounds as though you have lost confidence in me."
"I have. I've also lost the last four people in this goddamn world I called friends and my best chance to get out of this fucking place!"
"Your friends gambled and they lost, Mr. Singleton. If they had followed my orders we all would be driving to that prison Officer Grimes promised us. But I assure you that we still have a chance at surviving."
Harold blinked. "We do?"
"Indeed. The Oni will deal with our guests and our traitors. After they have moved along we will take a vehicle—perhaps that truck Officer Grimes offered us earlier—and his son shall tell us where his prison is located."
"But... you've wanted to leave this casino. You even tried to get Juan's group to join us."
"Indeed, but now I have no choice but to depart. My associates will soon be dead, and this casino is too large for you and I to manage."
Harold's anger towards Sora began to cool. He looked at their hostage, Carl. "What about the kid?" he asked.
"He will die, just as I told his father."
"No!" Harold shouted as he raised his assault carbine. "You—we—can't do that!"
"I am afraid, Mr. Singleton, that we have no choice!" Sora retorted. "If the boy lives, he will tell his people what truly happened, and they will not open the prison gates to us."
Harold reflected on Sora's statement and how persuasive it sounded; he dropped the assault carbine to his side.
I've been a goddamn coward, Harold thought. I should've spoken up months ago when this Jap bastard was executing people for stealing food or trying to escape! I can't let him kill this kid.
Harold looked around the El Dorado, his home for over a year, and as disgusted he was over Sora's intentions to mutilate and kill Carl he was more disgusted by the sight of this casino; he shut his eyes and began to weep.
I wanted my friends to live. I want to live! I don't want to die here! Miyaguchi's plan is my last chance!
Harold opened his eyes and he looked at Carl, who was looking past him at the lobby's entrance. Harold closed his eyes again and shook his head.
It's…It's too late, Harold admitted to himself. I've let Miyaguchi run this casino like it was his castle, and that's why our group was whittled down to just six people. It's too late for me to be a hero. I want to live…and much as it sickens me, I'll let that kid die to make it happen.
BLAM!
The sound of the gunshot made Harold spin around and look at the lobby's entrance. "Holy shit!" he shouted with surprise.
Dad has to be alive, Carl thought worriedly. He survived getting shot. He survived being in a coma. He survived the walkers. He survived the Governor. He has to be out there!
"Da—!" Carl shouted, but he was cut off when Sora pulled him forward and clamped a hand over his mouth.
Sora glanced at his hostage and then he looked over at Harold. "I believe Officer Grimes is about to enter the casino," he whispered.
Harold turned around slowly and looked at Sora. "He's a good shot," he muttered worriedly.
"You have an automatic weapon," Sora said with a nod to the assault carbine in Harold's hand.
"So did Frankie," Harold retorted.
"Mr. Singleton, you are twice the fighter Frank was," Sora said, being sure to use Frankie's full name. "You helped me run the El Dorado. You helped keep the El Dorado secure. You defended your friends on supply runs. You informed me of Mr. Zavala's story about the Governor. I had my doubts about Officer Grimes, and Mr. Zavala's story proved it."
Harold looked at Sora and nodded.
"Take position inside the slot machine room. I will remain here with our young friend. When Officer Grimes steps into your sights…kill him."
Harold nodded and ran to his right; after he entered the slot machine room, he knelt behind the vaulted doorway and waited for his target to arrive. Carl's eyes widened with fear and he struggled to break free, but Sora tightened his hold on the boy. Carl's eyes widened as he spotted his father and Michonne climbing the vestibule's small steps and stand in the lobby's entrance.
•••
The sound of gunfire rolled above the parking lot as Daryl ran across a row of parked cars and dropped to one knee. The Humvee was parked in the next row, and it looked new, expensive, and filled with gas. Daryl looked over his shoulder and watched as the El Dorado and Woodburian groups fired their guns into the oncoming herd. Daryl stood up a bit and looked cautiously from the right and the left…walkers —in singles, pairs, and groups —were staggering towards the El Dorado, attracted by the sound of gunfire.
It's the CDC all over again, Daryl thought.
A moment later, Daryl took a breath, tightened his grip on his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow, and continued his run. He crossed over to the next row of cars, put his back against the driver's side of the Humvee, and checked his surroundings: the herd hadn't seen him, but the new arrivals to his left and right did; they turned away from the sound of the gunfire and began staggering towards Daryl, growling hungrily with every step.
Shit! Daryl thought angrily.
Daryl took a step away from the Humvee, gripped his crossbow tightly, and swung its stock against the driver's side window.
CRASH!
FWEET! FWEET! FWEET!
The Humvee's car alarm rang loudly, and the walker's growled louder and narrowed their golden eyes. Daryl ignored the alarm and used the crossbow's stock to clear away the remaining shards of glass in the window's frame; then he reached into the Humvee, unlocked the door, and opened it. Daryl leaned inside, quickly found the buttons for the gas tank and the trunk, he pressed both buttons and both features popped open.
Daryl ran to the rear of the Humvee, placed his crossbow on the ground, and raised the trunk's lid to its full height. The trunk's contents of clothes, sports equipment, and gym bags lay in a disorganized heap, and despite the perilousness of his situation, the sight made Daryl take a moment to snort in contempt. Those white collar motherfuckers are slobs like the rest of us, he thought with amusement.
Daryl rummaged through the trunk quickly, and found a golf club bag. He opened the compartments to the golf bag and found a thin, dirty rag in one of them. At least this rich prick kept his clubs clean, he thought.
Daryl picked up his crossbow, stepped over to the Humvee's gas tank, and unscrewed the cap. Daryl looked around again at the approaching walkers, and saw a priest walker that was too close for comfort. Daryl took an assertive step forward, brought his crossbow up to his shoulder, aimed through the iron sights, and pulled the trigger.
THUNK!
The arrow struck the priest walker in the forehead and the arrowhead stuck out the back of its head. The priest walker froze for a moment, and then it fell backwards and landed on the parking lot, dead.
Daryl turned back to the Humvee and unscrewed the gas cap. With the gas tank clear, he removed an arrow from his crossbow's quiver, and put the crossbow on the ground. Daryl unscrewed the arrowhead and put it in his leather biker vest's pocket; he then took the golf club rag and impaled it onto the shaft. Daryl tore the white and green vanes off the shaft and stuck it and the attached rag into the Humvee's gas tank as far as he could as he held onto it by his fingertips. This fuckin' heap better have a full tank, he thought angrily as he watched walkers surround him slowly.
The closest walker was staggering from Daryl's left side; it was a Hispanic male with bits of flesh and blood caked on its goatee. Daryl pulled the shaft out of the Humvee's gas tank and saw that it was soaked in gasoline, so he tore it off the shaft. The Hispanic walker growled angrily as it raised its bloodstained hands at Daryl, but Daryl grabbed the Hispanic walker's throat with the rag still clenched in his left hand, and with his right hand, drove the shaft through the Hispanic walker's left eye.
SHUKK!
The Hispanic walker stopped growling and its arms fell to its sides. Daryl let go of the shaft and the walker's throat and watched as it fell backwards and landed on the ground, dead.
The other walkers growled angrier and continued staggering towards Daryl.
Daryl returned to the Humvee's open gas tank, balled up the gas soaked rag and stuffed it inside the gas tank's opening. After wiping his hands against his tattered jeans, Daryl reached into the right front pocket of his leather biker vest, and took out his Zippo lighter. Daryl flipped the Zippo open, ignited it, and put its flame to the gas soaked rag. Daryl closed the lid on the Zippo and returned it to his vest's pocket; then he picked up his crossbow, and started running back to the skirmish line.
A teenage male walker with a shaved head and piercings on its nose, eyebrows, and ears stood in Daryl's path and growled angrily. Daryl swung his crossbow's stock at the teenage walker, breaking the walker's cheekbone and knocking it to the ground. Daryl continued running while the flames from the burning rag ignited the Humvee's full gas tank.
KA-BOOM!
The Humvee exploded, sending a fireball into the air. While the Humvee's frame stayed intact and the wheels stayed on the suspension, the doors blew open and all the windows shattered into hundreds of tiny shards that flew like shrapnel at the half dozen walkers that were now crowding around it. The glass shards tore through their faces and into their brains killing them a second before the explosion threw them back and onto the ground
Daryl had escaped the killing range of the glass shards, but the explosion itself was strong enough to knock him off his feet and he landed on his chest hard. A few seconds later, Daryl raised himself up by his forearms slowly, and looked over his left shoulder to see the burning wreck of the Humvee and the half dozen walkers lying dead around it. Daryl coughed a bit, grabbed his crossbow by its barrel, and crawled the last few feet to the next row of parked cars for cover against the herd that he hoped would soon arrive.
•••
KA-BOOM!
Juan knelt on the ground as he took shells from his jacket's front pocket and loaded them into the magazine of his Remington 870 shotgun when an explosion erupted to his left. Juan dropped his shotgun and fell onto his backside as he watched a column of fire shoot up into the sky.
The sound of the explosion made the others on the skirmish line and several of the walkers opposite them fall to the ground.
"What the hell was that?" Alonso asked as he dropped his M16 A4 assault rifle and covered his ears.
A second later everyone saw a fireball shoot up into the air, and when they sat up and looked to their left, they saw a destroyed Humvee burning in the distance.
"Did Daryl blow up a car?" Tyreese asked.
"I hope that son of a bitch blew himself up with it!" Sam shouted.
"Shut the hell up!" John ordered as he pointed forward with his Colt M1911A1 pistol. "Look!"
The El Dorado group and the Woodbury group followed John's orders and saw that the herd had stopped in their tracks and was now looking at the large flames flickering to their right. A moment later, one walker started staggering towards the fire, and the rest of the herd followed it.
Julia dropped her Ithaca 37 "Stakeout" shotgun and clasped her hands together as she started to cry.
John holstered his pistol, and crawled over to Julia; he wrapped his arms around her and put a hand over her mouth. "Shut up, kid," he whispered. "If those geeks hear you, they'll forget about the burning car and come marching back to us."
Julia stopped crying and nodded that she'd be quiet.
John raised himself up slightly and looked at the rest of the El Dorado group and his own Woodbury group. "Everybody, shut up and stay down," he whispered urgently.
The others nodded, stayed down, and held their breath as they watched the herd stagger slowly towards the burning car.
•••
Rick entered the lobby of the El Dorado and gasped in shock when he saw Sora with his hand covering Carl's mouth. Rick's shock was quickly replaced with anger, and he aimed down the iron sights of his Colt Python revolver at the Japanese gambler. Sora noticed Rick's move, so he swung Carl in front of him and squeezed the hand over Carl's mouth, making the boy wince painfully.
"Welcome back to the El Dorado, Officer Grimes," Sora quipped.
"Let my son go," Rick ordered.
Sora shook his head. "You Americans are truly pig-headed. I told you before: we are not negotiating again!"
The sound of Michonne's footsteps entering the lobby rang in Rick's ears. When Rick sensed Michonne's presence standing to his left, he raised a hand to signal her to halt; she complied.
Rick kept his service revolver aimed on Sora, but his eyes searched the lobby for Harold. He wouldn't be behind the reception desk; too obvious, Rick thought. He might be hiding in the tavern, or on the second floor.
Rick looked at Carl, who moved his eyes repeatedly to his left…the slot machine room. Rick looked at Carl again and nodded his head to signal that he understood Carl's warning. Rick began walking towards Sora and Carl cautiously, a moment later Michonne followed, holding her katana in both hands.
"We're both running out of time, Miyaguchi," Rick warned.
"I disagree," Sora said.
Rick listened to the gunfire outside for a moment, he didn't dare think what might happen if Daryl and the others were overrun by the herd. "We need to leave…now," he said firmly.
"There is no "we" in the plan I explained to you earlier."
Rick stopped walking, he was close enough to see the blood under Carl's chin from the cut Sora inflected with his katana; he could also see the rising bruises on the left side of Carl's face from when Sora slammed him against one of the main entrance's glass doors. Rick looked at Sora, and his complexion turned red with anger while his finger tightened around his gun's trigger.
I want to empty all six rounds into that bastard's face, but I can't get a clear shot, Rick thought. Carl's life is in danger, Harold's likely pointing his rifle at me in the next room, and Daryl and the others can't keep the herd back much longer. I don't have a hand to deal in this game except one.
"I've got a new offer for you," Rick said.
Sora raised his head slightly. "I am listening."
"Everyone who's still alive gets to leaves this casino and goes to the prison; everyone except me."
Sora didn't even blink at Rick's offer, but Carl's and Michonne's eyes widened in shock.
"No, Rick," Michonne protested, "You don't have to—"
"I do, Michonne," Rick interrupted as he holstered his service revolver. "To save Carl's life, I'll do it."
Harold appeared in the slot machine room's arched doorway; he had his MK 18 Mod 0 assault carbine aimed at Rick, but he lowered it to the ground slowly.
"Nobody else dies, not my people, not your people," Rick said. "When you get to our vehicles in the parking lot Daryl and Michonne will lead your group and John's group to the prison."
After a few seconds of contemplation Sora nodded, "I accept."
Tears ran down Carl's face.
Harold walked into the lobby and looked at Rick in disbelief. I thought this guy was a psycho, but he's sacrificing himself to save his son, he thought.
"Rick, this…plan of yours is insane!" Michonne said angrily. "Hershel, Glenn, they'll ask what happened to you!"
"Tell Hershel and Glenn that the walkers got me while I covered your escape," Rick interrupted as he got down on his knees. "Tell them they got Floyd and Frankie, too."
"You…you can't sacrifice yourself!"
Rick looked up at Michonne. "I brought us here because I thought this casino would be empty. I was wrong. It's my mistake, Michonne. You and Daryl are the prison's leaders now. Tell him I don't want any acts of revenge against Sora and his people. Take good care of Carl and Judith. Okay?"
Michonne stared at Rick as she shook with rage.
"Okay?" Rick repeated a bit louder.
"Okay,"Michonne answered reluctantly.
Rick looked at his crying son; he trembled a bit, but he managed to smile bravely. "I'm sorry, Carl. Help Michonne take care of your baby sister, okay? I love you," he said as his eyes began to water.
Carl shut his crying eyes and lowered his head, a sob echoed from his covered mouth.
"You are an honorable man, Officer Grimes. You have my word that your people at the prison shall speak your name with reverence," Sora said.
Rick didn't reply, but Michonne huffed in contempt at Sora's compliment.
"Mr. Singleton," Sora said.
Harold blinked and looked at Sora. "Yeah, boss?"
Sora took his hand away from Carl's mouth, and shoved the boy towards Harold. "Hold him," he ordered.
Harold nodded nervously. "Yeah, okay."
Carl opened his eyes and looked at his father; his face was so wet from crying it looked like he'd splashed water on his face. "Daaaad," he moaned achingly.
"It's all right, Carl," Rick said.
Harold moved his assault carbine to his left hand and took hold of Carl's shoulder. "I'm sorry, kid," he said. "I'm so sorry."
Sora looked at Michonne, who stood poised to strike like a lioness. "Your sword," he said with a nod at her katana.
Michonne looked at her katana and then at Rick. Rick nodded and Michonne sheathed her weapon.
Sora then moved his own sheathed katana to his left hand and wrapped his right hand around its worn handle. "This will be a swift death, Officer Grimes," he promised.
Rick closed his eyes and thought about his wife Lori: she thought he died in the King County hospital during the early days of the walker apocalypse, and had affair with Rick's best friend and law enforcement partner Shane Walsh. Now they both were dead; Lori's death coming from an emergency Caesarian section to bring Judith into the world.
Lori, I'll be with you soon, Rick thought.
KA-BOOM!
An explosion burst outside. The five survivors in the lobby either spin around or look up at the lobby entrance.
"What the hell was that?" Harold asked.
"An explosion!" Rick answered.
"You mean like a bomb?"
Michonne seized the opportunity and lunged at Sora, but the Japanese gambler was faster and struck her on the head with a karate chop, and knocked her to the marble floor. Harold started to bring up his assault carbine, but Rick sprang to his feet and tackled Harold like a linebacker.
"What the...?" Harold shouted as he began to falling backwards. He let go of Carl as he inadvertently squeezed the trigger of his assault carbine.
BRAKKA! BRAKKA! BRAKKA!
The carbine's bullets tore into the top of the large palm tree, and several of its leaves broke free and floated with bullet holes inside them to rest on the furniture or the lobby floor.
Rick straddled Harold's stomach and struck him in the face with a right cross. The truck driver lost his grip on the assault carbine, and Rick picked it up and threw it as far away as he could.
Sora grabbed Carl by the back of his jacket's collar and began running towards the stone staircase.
"Dad!" Carl screamed.
Rick looked over his shoulder and saw Carl being dragged up the stone staircase by Sora. When they reached the second floor they ran down a hallway and vanished from sight. "Carl!" he shouted in horror.
Harold punched Rick in the jaw and he fell off the truck driver's stomach. Harold stood up, and when Rick got to his feet, repaid the tackle with one of his own that sent the two men falling over one of the lobby's chairs.
Michonne got back on her feet, drew her katana and ran after Sora and Carl; her hooded cape billowed behind her. "I'll get him!" she shouted as she charged up the stone staircase.
"Save Carl, Michonne!" Rick pleaded as he struggled with Harold on the lobby floor. "Save my son!"