CHAPTER 26
The convoy was returning to the prison, and Daryl was scouting ahead again.
The headlight of Daryl's Triumph Bonneville chopper motorcycle lit up the secondary road in the black of night. Daryl's Navajo print poncho protected him from the cold air, his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow was slung over his back, and his Colt Official Police revolver was reloaded and holstered to the gun belt wrapped around the motorcycle's handlebars.
I'm glad this dumbass run is over, Daryl thought wearily.
Daryl had thought Rick's plan of a supply run to the brand new El Dorado casino was risky, but it had almost been a disaster. They had gotten what they came for, but they lost three of their own in the process; Daryl himself had almost gotten swarmed by walkers when he blew up a Humvee's gas tank to distract a herd that was about to swarm the survivors outside the casino.
If Carol had been there she'd cry a little, and then she'd slap my face and ask if I'm crazy, Daryl thought with a grin.
Daryl grinned because he knew if Carol had been there, he would've lit up that Humvee sooner. If it meant sacrificing himself to keep her alive, he'd do it without a moment's hesitation.
So do I tell Carol that I risked my ass to blow up a Humvee?
Daryl knew Rick would mention the exploding Humvee when he told everyone at the prison what happened at the El Dorado, but when Daryl talked to Carol privately, he'd leave out the details like hiding alongside a car as the herd staggered towards the burning wreck, or rolling out of the way of a Japanese walker that tried to leap on top of him. Carol still might cry a little, slap him on the face, and ask if he was crazy, but she might also give him another kiss on his forehead. The prospect of another kiss from Carol made him blush and his heart race, so he worked the throttle of his motorcycle, and sped down the dark road.
•••
A mile behind Daryl was Rick, sitting in the driver's seat of the Dodge Ram 1500; Michonne was in the passenger seat and Carl sat asleep in the rear passenger seat; his battered Stetson hat and the guitar he was so eager to find for Beth were on the seat beside him. Rick stared worriedly at Carl through the rearview mirror and saw the bruises on the left side of his son's face and the superficial cut under his chin.
"I knew I shouldn't have brought him on this supply run," Rick said.
Michonne looked over her shoulder at Carl.
"I was worried about the El Dorado being too close to Atlanta, but then I also thought that I can't keep Carl in that prison forever. It's funny, isn't it? Parents always wish they can lock their kids in the house to keep them safe, and here I am with a whole prison."
Michonne looked at Rick and said, "You can't keep Carl in that prison forever, Rick."
Rick watched the road, sighed wearily, and replied, "I know."
"The cut and those bruises on his face will fade away."
"I know that, too."
Rick and Michonne were quiet for a minute, and then she said, "Carl's a brave kid."
"Thank you," Rick replied, as he continued to watch the road.
"He threatened to kill Sora if he touched me."
Rick snickered. "I'm glad it didn't come to that."
"So am I," Michonne smiled.
Rick looked at Michonne and said, "Thank you again for saving him."
"You're welcome again," Michonne replied.
Rick and Michonne were quiet for a few minutes longer, and then he said, "I'm afraid of losing him."
Michonne looked at Rick.
"Everyone who's survived this long has lost someone they love. I realize that. I'm no different from anyone else. But if I lost Carl or Judith, or both of them—"
A tear ran down Rick's face and he wiped it away with his hand.
"But it's not just Carl dying that makes me afraid: it's also the chance of him growing cold. Lori saw that happening at Hershel's farm, and I caught glimpses of it, too. He was angry that I took in the Woodburians, and now he's angry that I'm taking in the El Dorado group."
"Well, you and John aren't exactly Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson," Michonne quipped. "And I'm sure you haven't forgotten that Floyd was about to execute you before Daryl shot him first."
"John and I are doing better," Rick retorted. "And I certainly haven't forgotten Floyd. You can't judge a whole group based on the actions of one person. I learned that as a cop."
Rick was quiet for a minute and then he looked at Michonne and asked, "Did you know that after we chased the Governor and his army out of the prison, one of his soldiers ran into Carl?"
Michonne shook her head.
"Hershel told me that the kid was only a few years older than Carl; he told the kid to drop the gun, and the kid agreed, but Carl shot him anyway."
Michonne put her head down and everyone was quiet in the car yet again. A few minutes later Michonne raised her head, looked at Rick and said, "The kid didn't put the gun down, did he?"
"Carl said he didn't."
"Then Carl did the right thing."
Rick looked at Michonne and his eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
Michonne nodded.
Rick looked at the road, and shook his head with disappointment. "You're wrong, Michonne."
"Carl wasn't just defending himself, he was defending Hershel, Beth, and Judith," Michonne argued.
"But he killed a kid who was trying to surrender."
"If the kid was trying to surrender, he would've dropped the gun."
Rick looked at Michonne, but said nothing.
"He wasn't just a kid, Rick, he was a solider; a soldier who bought all of the Governor's lies, including the lies about our group."
Rick watched the road and a few moments later said, "It didn't have to happen. I'm not saying that Carl's a murderer, I'm just saying it didn't have to happen."
"Well, it did happen and it's been over for a long time. What do you want to happen for Carl now?"
Rick looked through the rear view mirror at Carl sleeping in the rear passenger seat, and then he returned to watching the road. "I'll make sure he never forgets the world is dangerous, but he never forgets his humanity, too. I owe Lori that."
Michonne went back to watching the road and it was quiet in the pickup truck for the rest of the drive to the prison.
•••
Carol stood alongside the iron doors that served as the prison's new gate with her jacket buttoned up, her left hand in a jacket's pocket, and an AKMS assault rifle slung over her right shoulder. In front of her was the empty road, stretching out into the darkness. Carol had taken over as sentry at 4 o'clock p.m.; it was now 8:10 p.m. The cold wasn't unbearable, but it was bothersome, so Carol began pacing left and right while considering her limited options to stay warm.
There was the ruined guard tower beside the new gates. Although the sentry box had been destroyed when the Governor attacked the prison, the stairwell was still intact. But Glenn and Maggie had been inside the stairwell three days ago, and the sleeping bag they'd taken along told Carol what they planned to do while they were on guard duty. Carol shook her head in disgust at the thought of hiding from the cold in a room where the young couple recently had sex, and considered her second option.
There were the iron drums being used as fire pits atop the courtyard. Glenn had found them behind the prison's motor pool, so with Henry's and Charlie's help rolled three of them onto the courtyard and placed them at key points. Now that night had fallen, the iron drums had been filled with broken branches, and were providing light and heat. Carol could go up to the courtyard and get warm beside one of those iron drums, but there were a few Woodburians gathered around those drums, and she didn't want to talk to them. Besides, Carol hoped Daryl and the others would be returning tonight, and she wanted to be the one to open the gate instead of taking the risk of them having to fight off a herd that might stagger out of the woods while she ran downhill to open the gates.
Carol tried to keep her mind off the nagging cold and thought about Daryl, it suddenly felt like a warm blanket was draped over her shoulders. Carol stopped pacing, looked up at the countless stars in the night sky, and a soft smile appeared on her face as pictured Daryl with his crossbow in his hands, his brown hair blowing in the wind, and his blue eyes narrowed as he kept lookout for game or walkers.
Time flew by, and a friendly voice called out "Hey, Carol."
Carol turned to her left and saw Glenn walking down the gravel road with a flashlight in his hand. He wore his baseball cap, a hooded jacket, and he had Shane's Mossberg 590 shotgun slung over his back. "How's it going?" he asked cheerfully.
"Fine," Carol answered curtly, upset that Glenn had interrupted her daydream of Daryl.
"That's good," Glenn smiled as he came to a stop beside Carol; he was oblivious of the anger in her answer.
Glenn pointed his flashlight at the new gate, and its beam shown over the metal doors and the pulley system that operated them. "The new gate looks pretty solid," he said happily, "it's going to look cool when we put up those Civil War spikes Hershel was talking about."
"Turn that light off!" Carol whispered angrily. "It'll attract walkers!"
Glenn gasped and fumbled with the flashlight, but he found the switch and turned off the beam. "Sorry," he said bashfully.
"And keep quiet!" Carol whispered.
"Sorry!" Glenn repeated. A moment later he whispered, "I mean…sorry."
Carol huffed angrily; she took her left hand out of her jacket's pocket, held onto the assault rifle's strap with both hands, and returned to her post alongside the iron gates. A moment later Glenn came around the gates and stood at Carol's right.
"Do you think Rick and the others will be back soon?" Glenn asked quietly as he looked down the dark, empty road.
Carol thought about the group's nomadic winter: Rick had been cold and brusque to everyone (especially Lori), but he kept them alive and kept up their morale; he avoided not just the herds of walkers, but the gangs like the one she and Daryl killed in a gunfight when they retrieved Merle's body. "They'll be back," she said confidently.
Glenn looked at Carol and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Rick's gotten out of tougher jams than a three-day supply run."
A minute later Glenn said, "I should've gone with him."
"Rick needed you here," Carol reminded the young Korean.
"Yeah, I know. But scavenging is what I do. Remember how it was back at the quarry outside Atlanta?"
Carol thought back to the days at the quarry: she smiled at the memory of her and her young daughter Sophia sitting together by the campfire at night (Shane ordered that the group keep the embers low to avoid attention from any walkers in the area), and she frowned at the memory of her and her abusive husband Ed inside their tent; he twisted her wrist until she cried, and he threatened to break it if he saw her talking to any of the men in camp. She almost laughed when she remembered Daryl defending her when Ed threatened to beat her for not giving him a bigger portion of rabbit stew. Daryl had come up behind Ed, grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulled him away from her, and threw him to the ground; Ed landed on a rock and screamed painfully. Ed then rolled onto his left side, but Daryl pushed his knee onto Ed's right side, which made her abusive husband flail his limbs and scream again. Daryl grabbed Ed's right wrist and twisted it behind her husband's back. The move forced Ed to lay his big stomach and he was screaming even louder.
"You think you're tough?!" Daryl asked as he applied more pressure onto Ed's wrist. "Try threatenin' me, you fat bastard!"
Ed continued screaming painfully and now tears were squeezing out of his shut eyes. Shane walked up behind Daryl, wrapped his arms around the younger man, and pulled him off Ed, leaving Carol and Sophia in stunned silence, and Ed in agonizing pain.
The memory faded, and Carol wiped the tears and the smile away from her face. "Yes, I remember," she said to Glenn.
Glenn looked at the ground and kicked at the pebbles with the toe of his boot. "I miss those days: scavenging, going solo. Can you believe that?" he asked.
Carol looked at Glenn in disbelief. "No, I can't," she answered.
Glenn looked up at the dark, empty road and smiled. "Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but at least I was being useful. I was helping to keep the group alive."
"You are useful, Glenn."
"How?"
"When Daryl left with Merle, and Rick broke down, you stood up. You had us fortify the pris—"
"And the Governor attacked us on my watch," Glenn interrupted. "I wasn't even here when it happened. Axel was killed."
"None of us thought the Governor would attack so soon," Carol explained.
"But I should've thought of it!" Glenn retorted angrily. The young Korean looked down at the ground again, and kicked the pebbles hard, sending dozens of them flying into the darkness beyond. "Some leader I was," he said.
Carl waited until Glenn calmed down and she said, "Nobody has been perfect at leading us. Not Shane, not Rick, and not you."
Glenn kept his head down for a few moments, and he finally raised his head, and looked at Carol with a shy smile. "Thanks, Carol," he said softly.
Carol smiled in return and the two friends resumed their sentry duty.
A minute later, Glenn asked awkwardly, "Uh, Carol. Can I ask you something?"
Carol looked at Glenn. "Sure," she answered.
"Uh, it's about Daryl."
Carol turned towards Glenn; a confused look on her face. "What is it?"
Glenn stuck his hands inside the pockets of his hooded jacket, and shook his head as if he realized he'd gone too far to turn back. He looked at Carol and asked, "Do you think Daryl's a racist?"
Carol's eyes widened with surprise. "No," she answered as she shook her head, "absolutely not."
Glenn exhaled in relief. "Great. I didn't think he is either."
"Then why did you ask me in the first place?"
"Uh, because Maggie's been saying I should stand up to Daryl."
Carol adjusted the weight of the assault rifle slung over her shoulder. "Why would Maggie have to say that?" she asked.
"Uh, because she saw Daryl grabbed me by the throat a few days ago," Glenn answered as he rubbed his through gingerly.
Carol glared at Glenn and replied. "I know. Daryl told me about it. He said you called Merle a killer."
Glenn lowered his head and moved his hand from his throat to the back of his neck. "Uh, I said more than that," he said bashfully.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, I also said Merle wasn't one of us."
A heavy quiet fell around Carol and Glenn and a minute later the housewife said, "That was stupid of you, Glenn."
"Yeah, I know," the young Korean muttered.
"Merle went on a suicide run against the Governor. The only reason we're all alive today is because the Governor didn't have a real army with him." Carol said sternly.
"I know," Glenn replied.
A moment later Carol's expression softened and she said. "You've known Daryl for as long as I have. You just told me that you don't think he was a racist. We shouldn't be having this conversation."
Glenn raised his head, put his hands in his jacket's pockets, and sighed wearily. "You're right. It's just that you and Daryl are so close I figured—"
"Me and Daryl are close?" Carol interrupted.
"Well, yeah," Glenn smiled. "You and Daryl have been stuck like glue since we lost the farm. If anyone in the group knows more about him it'd be you."
Carol turned to her left and looked down the dark, empty road. I shouldn't have been surprised by what Glenn said, but does he know how I feel about Daryl? She thought. Have I given out any signals? Any longing stares? Have I touched Daryl's hand, or a giggled at one of his remarks?
After thinking those questions over for a few minutes, Carol raised her head to look at the night sky. No. I don't think I've done any of that. But why don't I just tell Daryl how I feel about him?
A low, mechanical rumble sounded out in the distance. Carol looked down the dark, empty road and saw a yellow dot growing bigger and closer. Her heart started beating faster. "It's Daryl!" she shouted happily.
Glenn touched the bill of his ballcap and adjusted its fit on his head while he watched the yellow orb coming closer. "Great," he said plainly. He then looked at Carol and said nervously, "Uh, I really mean it; it's great that Daryl's back. That mean's everyone else is back, too. Uh, I'm sorry if I sounded like a jerk when I said—"
"I'm going to open the gates," Carol interrupted as she turned around and ran past the gates.
"Uh, good idea," Glenn said, relieved that he could stop his feeble apology.
Carol slung the AKMS assault rifle off her shoulder, leaned it against the chain link fence, and grabbed the ropes connected to the pulley system that operated the iron gates. Carol held the ropes in each hand, pulled on them with all her strength, and the iron doors swung open slowly. Daryl rode his motorcycle through the open gates, his poncho draped over him, and his crossbow slung over his back. He nodded a greeting to Carol, and she gave a small smile just before he rode past.
"Glenn, can you watch the gate?" Carol asked hopefully as she held out the ropes.
"Sure," Glenn said, knowing how eager Carol was to talk to Daryl.
Glenn walked through the open gates and took the ropes. Carol picked up the assault rifle and ran after Daryl. A moment later Glenn heard more engines in the distance and he looked down the dark, empty road to see the headlights of Rick's convoy approaching quickly.
•••
Daryl rode his motorcycle up the hill and came to a stop on the courtyard; the heel of his Red Wing boot struck the kickstand, and he turned the key in the motorcycle's ignition, the loud engine died suddenly, and Daryl dismounted his motorcycle. He looked around the courtyard and saw several of the Woodburians standing around iron drums that were being used as fire pits.
Iron drums for campfires? I'll bet that was Glenn's idea, Daryl thought.
"Daryl!" Carol's voice called out.
Daryl turned to his left and saw Carol running onto the courtyard with a smile on her face and holding an AKMS assault rifle by its plastic handguard. Daryl smiled too, and a moment later Carol threw her arms around Daryl's neck and hugged him tightly.
"Welcome back!" Carol said happily.
Daryl closed his eyes and smiled. A hug from Carol wasn't the slap in the face he feared, or the kiss that he hoped for, but he'd take it. He put his arms around her waist and was careful to not return the hug too tightly. "Thanks," he replied.
Carol held onto Daryl for a few precious seconds until she finally let him go and looked up at his face: Daryl looked tired and hungry, but his blue eyes revealed an inner turmoil. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Tell her how you feel, Daryl thought.
"I'm fine," Daryl answered quickly.
Daryl let go of Carol and chewed on his right thumbnail. Shit! I've been thinkin' about Carol ever since I left this prison and that's what I tell her? He thought angrily.
Carol studied Daryl's nervous expression for a few moments and then she asked, "Did something happen at the casino?"
Daryl took his thumbnail away from his mouth and answered, "Yeah, a lot of shit happened."
"What do you mean?"
The sound of the convoy coming up the hill caught Daryl and Carol's attention and they watched as Rick in the Dodge Ram 1500 led the other pickup trucks onto the courtyard.
"Rick's goin' to tell ya'll about it," Daryl answered.
•••
Rick put the pickup truck in park, turned the key in the ignition, and the engine rattled to a stop. He closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed wearily.
Michonne watched as the Woodburians left the warmth of the iron drums and ran towards the convoy; some were looking back at Cell Block D and shouting that the convoy returned. Michonne looked at Rick, hesitated for a moment, and put a hand on the sheriff deputy's shoulder. "I can tell Marianna about Juan," she said.
Rick opened his eyes. "No. I have to be the one," he replied as he unhitched his seatbelt.
Rick removed the keys from the ignition, opened the driver's side door, and climbed out of the pickup truck. The sound of the door closing woke up Carl. "Are we home?" the boy asked as he rubbed his eyes.
Michonne looked over her shoulder at Carl. It was strange to hear him call the prison 'home', but that's what it had become. "Yes, we are," she answered with a smile.
Rick looked to his left and watched the rest of the convoy park behind the Dodge Ram 1500. Tyreese and Karen climbed out of the bread truck, John climbed out of the Chevy Silverado; Nate, Alonso, and Julia climbed out of the Dodge Grand Caravan.
Nate looked up at the cold, dark prison and said, "God, I hope none of the criminals I helped convict were sent here."
"Relax, amigo," Alonso said as he patted the young assistant district attorney's shoulder, "If you get into any trouble with your old acquaintances in the legal system, I've got your back."
Nate smiled at Alonso and replied, "Thanks, brother."
Julia folded her hands across her chest and glared at Carol, who was standing beside Daryl. So the redneck turned me down for that Plain Jane? I guess the only people who survived the end of the world are the brave, the lucky, and the stupid! The cocktail waitress thought angrily.
John tucked his hands into his jacket's pockets and walked over to Rick. "Long as you've led your group, I guess you've had experience delivering bad news."
Rick nodded and replied, "Yeah, I do."
John looked past Rick, and gestured at someone behind the sheriff's deputy. "Well, once you've learned how to ride a bike…"
Rick turned around and saw Marianna amongst the Woodburians running out of Cell Block D. Rick put his hands on his hips, took a breath, and thought quickly about what he would tell the widow.
"Juan! Juan!" Marianna called happily as she ran towards the convoy.
Rick looked towards Cell Block C and saw Hershel, with his crutches underneath his arms, hobbling towards him. On Hershel's right side was his oldest daughter Maggie, with an M4A1 rifle slung over her right shoulder; on Hershel's left side was his youngest daughter Beth, with Judith crying in her arms. When Rick saw his baby daughter crying, he wanted to walk forward and hold Judith, but he knew that would have to wait.
The Woodburians surrounded the convoy and gazed in wonder at the cardboard boxes in the truck beds.
"What did you bring back?" Eddie asked happily.
"Tell me you guys brought back some beer!" Charlie grinned. "If I ever get my hands on a cold bottle of Miller Lite again, I won't call this a prison anymore—I'll call it Heaven!"
The Woodburians laughed at Charlie's joke, but then they noticed the three surviving members of the El Dorado Group; their laughter died down and the looks of suspicion appeared on their faces.
"Who are those people?" Michael asked as he adjusted his glasses.
"Those people?" Nate repeated angrily.
Michael's complexion turned pale and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"They're survivors, and they're staying here with us," Rick interrupted.
Michael nodded nervously and wiped the sweat from his brow. The surviving members of the El Dorado group looked at Rick and smiled in gratitude.
The Woodburians grumbled amongst themselves while the El Dorado group exchanged nervous glances amongst each other. Rick heard two doors on the Dodge Ram 1500 open and close, so he looked to his right and saw Carl and Michonne had climbed out of the pickup truck.
"Where's Juan?" Marianna asked worriedly.
Rick looked at Michonne again, who had just slung her katana over her back; she nodded supportively and walked around the front of the pick up to reveal Carl walking alongside her. Michonne had her arm on Carl's shoulder, and Carl was holding his battered Stetson hat in his hand.
"Where's Juan?" Marianna repeated with her hands clasped together.
Michonne and Carl were now standing alongside Rick, who put his hands on his hips and lowered his head. What am I going to tell her? Rick thought. That her husband conspired with a Japanese psychopath? That her husband convinced Floyd and Sam that I was the second coming of the Governor? That her husband would have shot me if he hadn't been killed by a walker that had minutes before been his friend?
Rick sighed wearily and looked up at Marianna, who was now on the verge of crying while she waited for an answer. Rick took a step forward and said, "He's gone."
The tears ran down Marianna's face and she fell to her knees. Rick walked forward, knelt down, and put his arms around the crying widow. Rick let Marianna cry on his shoulder, and then he remembered Shane's eulogy at Otis' funeral. I have to do what Shane did for Patricia: I have to lie, Rick thought.
Rick gently pulled Marianna away so he could look at her crying eyes.
"I'm sorry, Marianna. We were set to leave the casino when we were attacked by a herd. We burned through our ammo trying to stop them—Daryl even blew up a Humvee to distract them—but there were still too many coming towards us.
"Juan pushed me towards the convoy and said, 'Get everyone into the trucks! I'll cover you!' I did what he said, and through it all, I heard Juan's pistol firing behind me. I got everyone into their vehicles, I got my truck started, and I shouted for Juan to join us, but…"
Rick stopped talking, and Marianna lowered her head and continued crying. Rick helped Marianna to her feet, and he nodded at John's wife, Donna. Donna walked over and put her arm around the widow's shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Marianna. I'm so sorry," Donna said quietly as she cried alongside her friend.
Rick watched sadly as Marianna and Donna cried, and then he faced the Woodburians. "We lost a brave man today; we lost Floyd and Sam too, but we've returned with food, medicine, ammo, and gasoline; enough supplies to keep us going for a month! We also returned with other survivors, and they're willing to help us rebuild this prison, and you all can see there's still a lot of work to do. But for now, let's get these trucks unloaded and get set for our first meal as a community!"
The Woodburians clapped and cheered. A minute later they started to unload the cardboard boxes and the gas tanks. Tyreese lowered the bread truck's ramp, and more Woodburians walked up the ramp and started to unload the cardboard boxes inside it.
"Rick," John called out.
Rick turned around and saw John walking towards him. When the Vietnam Veteran reached Rick's side, he whispered, "Thanks for what you told Marianna."
Rick nodded his thanks, and then walked over to Beth and gently took Judith in his arms. Rick smiled as he looked down on his crying baby daughter and kissed her forehead; she stopped crying.