CHAPTER 23
Daryl, Alonso, and Sam ran onto the parking lot and did their best to avoid tripping over the piles of dead walkers strewn before them. In the left row of parked vehicles Daryl spotted a Dodge Grand Caravan behind a Mitsbushi Eclipse.
"Is that the one?" Daryl asked as his Navajo print poncho flew over his shoulder.
"Si! Si!" Alonso answered as he ran alongside Daryl's left.
Sam yelped as he tripped over a dead walker's body, but he regained his balance and continued running alongside Daryl's right.
The three men turned to their left and stopped alongside the driver's side of the Dodge Caravan. While they caught their breath, they looked at the burning Humvee and the herd surrounding it: the walkers were growling and grasping at the flames; the ones in front were pushed into the burning vehicle, while others staggered out of the crowd with their hands, arms, and—in some cases—their heads on fire. These burning walkers waved their burning limbs slowly, as if they were attempting to shake off the flames, but eventually they collapsed to the ground and the flames consumed their bodies.
"Madre de Dios," Alonso whispered as he made the Sign of the Cross.
"Mother Mary can't help those geeks; they've been dead for too long," Daryl quipped as he inspected the window to the drivers' side door, "ask her to help us instead."
"Can you hotwire this minivan?" Sam asked.
Daryl grunted an affirmative.
"But it's locked. How are you going to open—"
Daryl held his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow with both hands, took a step back, and used the butt of his weapon to smash the driver's side window.
CRAAASSHHH!
The window was smashed into hundreds of tiny shards that flew across the minivan's interior.
"Hey!" Sam shouted as he covered his eyes with his left arm to protect them from any glass shards that might fly in his direction.
The sound of the glass shattering frightened Alonso: he yelped as he leapt in the air, and spun around to see what had happened.
Daryl then used the crossbow's stock to knock away the pieces glass still clinging to the door's window frame.
Sam lowered his left arm from his eyes, and remembered last night when Daryl smashed one of the El Dorado's glass doors so the Prison group and Woodbury group could get inside. "What the…again?!" he shouted in disbelief.
A second later the car alarm blared.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Oh, shit!" Sam shouted.
Daryl ignored Sam, and he reached inside the window frame, and unlocked the driver's side door.
"That alarm's going to attract the biters!" Sam shouted.
"Shut up," Daryl hissed at Sam before getting into the minivan.
Alonso ran over to the minivan's open driver's side door and looked at Daryl sitting in the driver's seat. "Can you turn that thing off?" he asked over the blaring car alarm.
Daryl nodded. "I'm workin' on it," he answered.
Alonso glanced at Sam and looked at Daryl, "So, what do you want us to do?"
"Cover me, Chef," Daryl quipped.
Alonso looked at the burning Humvee and saw that several walkers in the rear of the herd were now looking at the Dodge Grand Caravan. Alonso's complexion turned pale.
"You boys don't shoot unless you have to! Savvy?" Daryl ordered as he pointed at Alonso and Sam.
"Si," Alonso nodded.
Sam glared at Daryl and spat, "Yeah."
Alonso ran to the front of the Dodge Grand Caravan, brought his M16A4 assault rifle up to his shoulder and took aim at the herd. One walker staggered towards him, then another, and another, and another.
Daryl laid his crossbow across his lap, unsheathed his Busse Team Gemini knife, and used it to pry open the lid to the fuse box alongside the driver's side door. Daryl tossed his knife onto the passenger seat, and then he reached inside the fuse box, pulled out a wire, and disconnected it.
BEEP! BEEP! BEE—
The car alarm stopped. Daryl looked up at the windshield and saw the handful of walkers that heard the alarm were still staggering towards the minivan, but the rest of the herd still surrounded the burning Humvee.
Sam had stayed by the open driver's side door; he looked down at Daryl again and asked. "Can you really hotwire this thing?"
Daryl looked at the minivan's steering wheel and grunted an affirmative again.
Sam moved the safety on his Beretta 92FS pistol to the "off" position, and slipped his index finger around the pistol's trigger. "Good," he replied as he took aim at the unsuspecting Daryl.
•••
Rick, Carl, and Michonne had just run onto the courtyard when they came to a stop, and saw Tyreese and Karen fighting a group of walkers. Tyreese used his framing hammer to strike a muscular male walker clad only in sweatpants on its head, but the blow only made the male walker stagger back, so Tyreese struck it again and again until its head burst open and it fell to the courtyard dead. Karen stood her ground against a young male walker wearing a bloody T-shirt and torn jeans, and with a kitchen knife stuck in its chest. Karen grabbed the kitchen knife's handle to hold the young walker in place, and stabbed it in the forehead with her hunting knife. The young walker froze, and when Karen pulled her knife free, and let go of the kitchen knife, the young walker fell to the ground dead.
The rest of the small group of walkers continued staggering towards Tyreese and Karen.
Rick holstered his Colt Python revolver, looked down at Carl and said, "Stay here with Michonne."
Carl looked up at his father and blinked. "But…Dad…?"
Rick reached into his back pocket, took out his Gerber DMF Folder pocket knife, and flipped the blade out from its handle; Rick then ran to help Tyreese and Karen
"Dad, wait!" Carl pleaded as he started to run after him.
Michonne's hand gently, but firmly, grabbed Carl's shoulder and pulled him back. Carl looked up and saw Michonne shake her head.
"Tyreese!" Rick shouted.
Tyreese looked over his shoulder and smiled broadly. "Hey, Rick! Thank God!"
Karen looked over her shoulder too, and saw Rick running towards her and Tyreese; behind Rick she saw Carl and Michonne. "They're alive!" she shouted happily.
Rick came up to Tyreese's left side and confronted a male walker whose shirt had been shredded by a shotgun blast. Rick grabbed the male walker by the throat, and stabbed it in its left temple.
WHUKK!
The male walker died on its feet, and Rick and pushed it backward so it would knock down the skeletal walker behind it. Rick stepped over the walker he just killed, and looked down at the skeletal walker beneath it; the rotting corpse growled angrily at Rick, so he raised his right foot, and brought it down on the skeletal walker's skull, smashing it and destroying its brain.
Inspired by Rick's presence, Tyreese renewed his attack on the small group of walkers. Staggering in front of him now was a black male walker that had a piece of its left bicep bitten off. Tyreese swung his framing hammer, and connected with the black walker's jaw.
KRAK!
The framing hammer broke the black walker's jaw and knocking out four of its teeth. The black walker spun around, and when it faced Tyreese again, he brought his hammer down on the top of its head.
KRAK!
This time, the black walker fell to the ground dead.
A middle-aged female walker in a torn EMT uniform growled at Karen. She gripped her hunting knife tightly and thrust it at the EMT walker's face.
SVASSH!
The blade of Karen's knife went through the female EMT walker's left eye, and when she pulled the blade out, the dead walker fell to its knees, and then onto its left side.
The small group of walkers was now down to two; Rick and Tyreese killed them quickly and quietly.
"Dad!" Carl shouted happily.
Rick had just run his forearm across his forehead when he heard Carl's voice. He turned around and saw his son running towards him; Michonne was right behind him.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Carl asked.
Rick knelt down, tore the sleeve off a dead walker's shirt, and used it to wipe the blood and gore off his pocket knife. "I'm fine, son," he answered as he stood up.
Rick then looked at Tyreese and Karen. "Are you two all right?" he asked.
Tyreese held his bloody hammer as if he'd found a dead rat in his basement. "I'm cool," he muttered.
Karen had knelt down and was wiping the blood off her knife across the back of a dead walker. "I'm fine; winded but fine," she panted.
Michonne stood beside Rick, and looked around the courtyard, "Where's Daryl?" she asked.
Before Rick could reply to Michonne's question, a cheerful voice said, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
Rick looked past Tyreese and Karen to see John, his fellow Woodburians and the El Dorado group sitting down on the courtyard like they were trying to hide. John was smiling and he held Carl's battered Stetson hat in his left hand.
Rick glanced at his small group waved his arm, and led them to the group sitting a few yards away.
"Good to see you too, John," Rick replied as he knelt down across from the Vietnam Veteran.
John snorted in amusement at Rick's jibe.
Carl and Michonne knelt alongside Rick, with Tyreese and Karen kneeling behind them. John looked sad when he saw the swelling on the boy's left cheek, but he smiled and offered him the Stetson hat. "You dropped this," he said.
"Thanks," Carl said as he took his father's old sheriff's deputy hat and placed it on his head.
Rick shot a glare at Juan that frightened the Latino handyman into looking at the ground.
I took your people into the prison after the Governor murdered the last of Woodbury's able-bodied men and women, and you repay me by telling that card shark that I'm just like that psychotic son of a bitch? Rick thought angrily. If your wife wasn't alive and waiting for you, I'd leave your cowardly hide on this parking lot!
Rick took a calming breath, looked at John again and said, "We heard an explosion a while ago."
"That was Dixon's doing," John answered as he pointed his thumb to his right, "blew up a truck to get the herd off our asses."
Rick stood up in the direction John pointed and saw the burning Humvee and the herd of walkers that surrounded it. Rick knelt down again, and thought about that incident minutes ago when Daryl shot Floyd before the retired postal worker could execute him. "That's the second time Daryl's saved my life today," he said.
John grunted in agreement. "Good man to have around."
"Where's Daryl now?" Michonne asked.
"Hotwiring a car; none of these hospitality experts know how to do that."
The El Dorado group lowered their heads in embarrassment.
"Where's my gun?" Carl asked.
John chuckled. "There's hope for America yet. Don't about your gun, kid: Daryl's got it."
From the parking lot, a panel of glass broke like a thunderclap.
CRAAASSHHH!
Rick and Michone stood up and saw Daryl, Sam, and Alonso standing alongside the Dodge Grand Caravan that Harold picked out for the El Dorado group this morning. A second later the sound of the car alarm rung across the parking lot.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Rick looked to the herd that surrounded the burning Humvee again and his eyes widened as one-by-one, the walkers in the rear turned around slowly and looked at the Dodge Caravan. Rick grabbed Michonne's arm and pulled her down to the courtyard again.
"Hey!" Michonne whispered in surprise.
Rick blushed and stared at the ground. "I'm sorry."
A small smile appeared on Michonne's face. "It's okay."
Rick looked at Michonne and smiled back.
"Hey, are you two on a date, or are you two going to get us out of here?" Nate asked angrily.
"Uh, yeah. Okay," Rick nodded.
"Do you want these folks to make a run for the car?" John asked as he nodded at the El Dorado group.
"With all those dead walkers out there? No," Rick answered. "Let Daryl hotwire it; I'm sure he'll drive the car to a spot nearby where these people can climb in."
"Are you serious?" Nate asked in disbelief. "What if that redneck just takes off and leaves us here?"
Rick glared at Nate and gestured at the Triumph Bonneville chopper parked nearby. "That bike belonged to Daryl's brother; he's not leaving that behind."
Nate unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and looked down at the ground meekly. "Okay, man. Okay," he replied.
•••
"What are you going to do, Dixon? Wave your hands in front of the steering wheel and say 'Abracadabra'?" Sam asked angrily.
"I don't know, how about this?" Daryl quipped as he gave Sam the Finger.
Very funny, asshole. I've got a joke for you: I'm going to blow your fucking brains all over the dashboard! Sam thought angrily. You killed my friend, Floyd. Now I'm going to kill you.
"They're coming!" Alonso cried nervously from the front of the Dodge Grand Caravan.
Daryl looked out the windshield again and to check the walkers' progress; they were indeed getting closer, but not close enough for him to panic.
"Don't shoot unless you have to!" Daryl reminded Alonso.
"Si," Alonso said nervously.
Sam glanced at the walkers staggering towards him, and went back to aiming his pistol at the back of Daryl's head. Get this fucking car running, you dirty son of a bitch! He thought nervously.
Daryl slid his right hand across the bottom of the minivan's dashboard until he found the lid to the steering wheel's fuse box. He leaned forward, but was stopped by an object; he then realized that his crossbow was still on his lap. Daryl looked to the passenger seat on his right, and then he looked at the open driver's side door on his left.
Do I throw my crossbow on the passenger seat, or do I throw it out the door? He thought.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his left eye, Daryl saw Sam standing outside the minivan.
Daryl picked up his crossbow with his left hand and held the weapon outside the minivan. "Take it," he ordered as he looked out the windshield at the approaching walkers.
Sam lowered his gun slightly and looked at Daryl's crossbow; his mouth dropped open. "What?" he asked.
"Take it!" Daryl shouted with a shake of his crossbow for emphasis.
Sam looked back and forth at the gun in his right hand and his empty left hand. Shit! What am I going to do? He thought.
Sam moved the front of his jacket aside and stuck his gun in the front of his waist belt.
BLAM!
The gunshot was louder than the car alarm; a second later Sam's blood curdling scream was louder than that.
Daryl looked to his left and saw that a blood stain was spreading quickly across Sam's crotch. Daryl shut his eyes and winced. "Fuck!" he shouted.
Alonso spun around and looked at the screaming, wounded Sam. When the chef realized where the wound was on Sam's body, he felt this morning's breakfast rush up his throat and he puked onto the parking lot.
Sam's scream ended and he dropped his pistol, covered his wound with both hands, and fell to his knees. Blood seeped through his fingers, and when he bowed his head his slouch hat fell onto the puddle of blood that had run down his pants.
Sam started hyperventilating; he raised his head to the sky and screamed, "I shot my dick off!"
The herd that surrounded the burning Humvee turned around in unison at the sound of Sam's voice.
Inside the minivan, Daryl tossed his crossbow onto the passenger seat, picked up his Team Gemini Busse knife and slid into the driver's footwell where he began to pry open the steering wheel's fuse box. Outside the minivan, Alonso dropped his M16A4 assault rifle, and ran towards the wounded Sam.
"Jesus H. Christ, it hurts so fucking bad!" Sam screamed, as blood continued seeping through his fingers.
"Shut him up, Goddammit!" Daryl shouted at Alonso as he pried the lid to the fuse box open.
Alonso knelt beside Sam and put his arms around him. "Calm down, amigo," he pleaded.
Sam stopped crying, and a moment later he lost consciousness. Alonso stood up, grabbed Sam by the shoulders, and started to drag the wounded man past the Dodge Grand Caravan.
•••
From the courtyard, Rick and Michonne stood up briefly to catch a glimpse of the walkers at the back of the herd staggering towards the sound of the car alarm.
"That car alarm's got the attention of some of the walkers," Michonne said as she and Rick knelt down again.
"Oh, God," Julia cried fearfully as she clasped her hands together.
"I hope Daryl knows his shit," Tyreese said.
BEEP! BEEP! BEE—!
The car alarm stopped.
Karen looked up at Tyreese. "I think he does," she smiled.
"Yeah, but if Dixon gets that car running, what are we going to do then?" Nate asked.
Rick looked from the vehicles his group and john's group parked on the courtyard last night, to the survivors standing around him. "Everyone, get in the trucks!" he ordered.
The survivors looked at Rick in disbelief.
"You're going to leave Dixon and the others behind?" John asked angrily.
Juan pointed a finger at Rick. "Do you see?" he asked the survivors. "Is this the man you want to lead all of you?!"
"Juan," Michonne said sternly.
"Ci?" Juan asked.
"Shut up," Michonne ordered.
Juan's defiance evaporated under Michonne's glare and he looked down at the ground. Rick looked at Michonne and nodded his thanks for her defending him.
"Dad, we can't leave Daryl behind," Carl pleaded.
"We're not, Carl, but we've got to stay one step ahead of that herd!" Rick explained.
Rick dug into his front pocket and took out the keys to the Dodge Ram 1500 truck. "Michonne, take Carl and get him into the truck!"
Michonne nodded and extended her left hand. Rick gave Michonne the car keys and she closed her hand around them tightly.
"John, get your people and the casino people in your car and the box truck. It'll be a tight fit, but we've got to get on the road now!"
"What about you?" John asked.
Rick drew his Colt Python revolver. "I'm going to help Daryl."
Carl shook his head. "No, Dad! You can't—"
BLAM!
The gunshot made the survivors jump to their feet and look at the parking lot.
A moment later a hi-pitched scream cut above the gunshot's echo that made everyone shiver.
"Who was that?" Julia asked.
"It's Sam," Juan answered worriedly.
A moment later, the survivors heard Sam scream, "I shot my dick off!"
The survivors glanced at each other in confusion.
"Did he say what I think he said?" Tyreese asked in disbelief.
"He did," Rick answered with a nod.
"Damn!" Nate cried loudly as he grimaced with imaginary pain.
Rick looked at the herd that surrounded the Humvee, and his expression turned pale as he watched the entire herd turned in unison of the direction of Sam's screaming.
Rick took a few steps forward and raised his arms to get the survivors' attention. "All right: get into the trucks, and head for the highway!"
"I'm not leaving you, Dad!" Carl cried.
"And I'm not leaving Sam!" John shouted defiantly.
"I'm not leaving Sam either," Juan added.
"Hey, Alonso's my boy. I'm not leaving him to be some geek's breakfast!" Nate said.
Juan glared at Rick, only this time his gaze held fire in it. "You're leaving your friend and our friends to be killed by those demons!"
Rick took a breath and lowered his hands slightly. "We're not leaving them; we're getting a step ahead of those walkers," Rick explained, "when you get on the highway wait for me and the others."
"No, I won't let Sam die!" Juan shouted as he ran into the parking lot with his Remington 870 shotgun in his hands.
"Come back, Juan!" Rick ordered.
The Latino handyman ignored Rick and stepped over the piles of dead walkers and ran towards the sound of Sam's screams.
John thumbed the hammer back on his Colt M1911A1 pistol. "He's right! Come on!" the Vietnam veteran shouted.
John ran forward, but Rick grabbed onto his left arm.
"Stop!" Rick ordered.
John glared at Rick. "Are you crazy or are you a coward?" he spat.
Rick glared back at John and thought: I've got a question for you John: are you a fool? When you arrived at the prison you started throwing insults and accusations at me. And just when I thought we were back on the same page, you want to start with all that shit again. Thank you for your service, but you never fought a war like this one, so shut up and let me get all of us out of here!
Despite his anger, Rick took a deep breath, exhaled, and spoke to John calmly. "John, I know Sam's hurt, and I know Sam's your friend, but from all these casings on the ground I'd say everybody fired most of their ammo, and what you've got left we'll need for the ride back to the prison.
And don't forget, John, that you've got the keys to the Silverado. Stay here with the truck: If we have to abandon the car Daryl hotwired, we'll run to you! If we don't have any trouble, we'll drive to the exit ramp and you'll follow us."
John considered Rick's statement for a few moments, and then he nodded in agreement and holstered his pistol.
Rick patted John on his shoulder and then he turned around to look at the other survivors: Carl and Michonne, Tyreese, Karen, and Julia.
"Julia, Nate, you two better stick with Carl and Michonne."
Julia trembled with fear despite the Ithaca 37 "Stakeout" shotgun in her hands, but she nodded in understanding of Rick's order. Nate nodded too and dropped his empty AR-15 rifle.
"I know you're all scared, but if all of you keep a clear head, we'll all make it back to the prison," Rick said confidently.
The survivors glanced at each other nervously, while Michonne kept her eyes on Rick.
"Remember: wait for us on the highway. Let's go," Rick ordered.
Karen nodded and holding her M4A1 rifle in her hands, ran towards the bread truck. Tyreese followed her with his framing hammer at his side, and his Mossberg 500 shotgun in his right hand.
John ran to the Chevy Silverado, took the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the driver's side door, and climbed inside.
Michonne had her left hand on Carl's shoulder, which comforted the boy, and prevented him from following his father. "Be careful, Rick," she pleaded.
Rick nodded to Michonne. Then he looked at his son, who had tears running down his face. "Everything's going to be okay, Carl," he promised.
Carl was too upset to speak, so he nodded instead.
Rick turned around, and ran onto the parking lot and stepped over the piles of dead walkers. Michonne and Carl watched Rick for a moment before the swordswoman gently pushed the boy towards the Dodge Ram 1500 truck.
Nate started following Michonne and Carl when he stopped and looked over his shoulder to see Julia, trembling.
"Come on, Julia!" Nate shouted at the frightened cocktail waitress.
Julia snapped out of her fear and ran to catch up with Michonne, Carl, and Nate.