Chapter Twenty-seven
A terrifying sense of panic taints the warm air already charged with the tension of discontented survivors. Erin rushes toward Rick as he jumps from the table with his hand reaching for the gun at his belt.
"Stay here!" Rick tells her with a hand on his son's shoulder, nudging the boy into her arms.
"Be careful, Rick." Her throat thickens as she tries to swallow the fear climbing up from her chest. She watches him lead Daryl and Glenn into the woods behind the Dixon's tent as Amy and Jacqui come to stand by her.
"What was that, Erin? Oh, God," Amy says looking around the camp frantically. "Where's my sister?" she asks nervously as Shane and T-Dog rush into the trees behind Glenn. "Andrea!"
"Shh," Erin releases Carl and turns to her distraught friend, taking her hands into her own. "We have to be quiet if there are walkers out there," she says in a soft calming tone that she is proud to have executed with the icy terror chilling her veins.
"Where's Andrea?" Amy asks miserably, looking toward the woods where the crunch and crackle of the men's tracks can be heard below their hushed voices.
"I don't know." Shifting her feet until she is standing in front of Amy, Erin tugs on her friend's hands to draw her focus. When Amy finally meets her gaze she adds, "But if she's out there, Rick will find her."
"That's right, Amy," Dale says when he joins them a moment later with a troubled expression and a rifle in his grip.
When the distinctive pitch of scraping tin echoes noisily from the forest, Erin turns back toward the woods as Kelly arrives to wrap a comforting arm around Amy. Rick's voice is heard shouting above the garbled sounds of the other men and Erin's heart kicks into overdrive. "Oh God," she murmurs as she closes her eyes. Please be careful, honey. She drops her chin against her fists and curls her fingers around the neckline of Rick's white tee shirt, willing him to walk out of the woods. "Please, please, please," she whispers as his voice dissolves into distorted words, though no less urgent in tone.
Feeling the warmth of a small body pressing against her ribs, she opens her eyes and pulls Carl into a tight embrace. "I want Dad," he says against her chest.
The emotional strain that clips his voice gives her an idea of what he must have gone through when his father was in a coma. The thought nibbles at her heart and she prays that she won't have to watch him live through that again. "Me too, sweetie." She presses her lips to the top of his dark hair. "I'm sure he'll be right back," she says soothingly before glancing over her shoulder at the sound of anxious murmurs behind her.
Her French braid gets caught in the path of a gusty breeze and she absently lifts a hand to slip a loosened twist of auburn hair behind her ear, and notices the rest of their group gathered in the center of the campsite. For the first time since Shane's announcement of going off on his own, the survivors are banded as one, clinging to each other in support, in comradery… in fear.
Erin feels safe enough with Dale and Jim watching the woods surrounding them, armed with rifles and constantly turning their heads in a slow arc of surveillance, but she is terrified for Rick and the other men who seem to have been swallowed up by the thick forest.
With nothing but the erratic sound of fretful breaths that echo her own troubled lungs, an unearthly silence fills their patch above the quarry.
The streaming clouds have hindered their blustery breezes, leaving the Georgia air warm and lifeless. The living soul of the forest, with its fill of beaks and claws and antennae, seems to be holding its breath as well. Not a chirp or flutter can be heard from the thicket that Erin is so intently focused upon. The usually talkative birds are excruciatingly quiet - in respect of the dead or in pity of the soon-to-be, she wonders.
The grass under her restlessly shifting feet feels like it is growing faster than the ten endless minutes that slither listlessly beneath the dying sun.
When the unmistakable sound of thin wood snapping beneath a heavy boot with a purposeful stride drifts out from the towering trees, the flutter in her belly squirms with an impatient squeal. A tall form emerges from the forest and Erin immediately recognizes Rick's wide brimmed hat shading the man in the dark gray shirt, now garnished with splatters of wet blotches.
She is one step behind Carl as they both rush out to meet him.
Leaping into his father's arms, Carl clings to Rick's shoulders as the sheriff crushes his boy to his chest. The relief Erin feels at the sight burns sharply in her throat. A moment later Rick is pulling her against Carl's wiry body to include her in the emotional embrace.
"It's okay now," he murmurs against Carl's head and then Erin feels his lips pressing into her own hair.
She leans back to meet his eyes and he swings Carl onto his hip. "What happened, Rick?"
"It was a handful of walkers," he answers softly. "We got them," he adds and then looks beyond Erin's shoulder. She knows he is meeting the eyes of her friends that must have followed her out. He swallows hard and tilts his head slightly. She sees his eyes soften with sympathy for the words forming on his tongue as Amy asks about her sister. He hesitates and in that moment Erin's mouth goes dry with the knowledge that their fears had come true. "I'm so sorry, Amy," he says gently, shaking his head as if he truly does not want to say the words that they all know are coming. "They got Andrea."
"Nooo!"
Erin turns at the sound of her friend's agonizing cry as Carl buries his face in his daddy's neck, heavy sobs wracking his small body. With tears streaming down her own cheeks, she wraps her arms around Amy, holding the young woman tightly as Jacqui steps forward to add her own comforting hands. When Amy's knees give out, Erin is grateful for Jacqui's presence as their friend collapses into a heap on the ground.
Offering tender words of sympathy that most likely go unheard, Erin feels utterly helpless when she sees Shane walk out of the woods carrying Andrea like a lifeless bride. "Oh my God." The reality of it hits her hard, crushing her chest and dislodging a deep, choking sob as Amy begins to wail in her arms.
Amy's anguish fills the air and Erin's heart breaks for the devastated woman; a sister who regrets the harshness of the last words spoken to a loved one. Those words will carry on the wind and cling to the earth as they live in the shadow of this guilt-ridden survivor; a loving sister who will never have the chance to replace those words with genuine terms of affection.
Crouched in the grass with Amy, Erin is barely aware of Rick handing Carl off to his Aunt Kelly. When he walks slowly to Carol, whose tears match those of the daughter held tightly to her side, Erin catches the odd expression on his face and knows what he is going to say before he utters a single word.
"Ed was attacked too," he tells Carol softly. "I'm really sorry." There is no mistaking the sincerity in his voice, but knowing him so well, Erin also reads a flash of something else in his eyes; the world won't be mourning the loss of this man.
She watches a myriad of emotions streak across Carol's face in a matter of seconds; from shock to grief to remorseful relief and then settling with a strange sense of guarded sorrow.
Erin meets Jacqui's eyes over Amy's blonde hair. "Go," the dark woman says with a nod as she blinks away fresh tears. "I'll stay with her."
Erin gives Amy a quick heartfelt squeeze and then stands to comfort another dear friend. Walking toward Carol, she sees Rick turn back to Kelly and reach for his son. The boy wiggles quickly into his father's arms and sticks his face into the crook of his neck. For a moment she wishes she could do the same; dry her tears on the man whose strength gets her through every wretched moment of every God-forsaken day.
Wrapping her arms around Carol and Sophia, Erin watches Kelly move over to sit with Amy and Jacqui as Daryl stands off to the side, regarding Carol with an odd look on his face; an awkward mixture of sympathy and pain. He seems rooted to the spot and Erin's heart constricts a little more, hurting for whatever he has endured to put such a strong fission of empathy into his gaze.
"Nobody goes into the woods again!" Rick yells as T-Dog and Glenn walk out of the forest and into their clearing. Glenn looks exhausted, Erin thinks. And sad. Very, very sad.
"Are there more of them out there?" Kelly asks with a sniffle, fear giving her voice a squeaky pitch.
"Not right now, no. I think those few just followed Morgan and Duane up the hill," Ricks says. "But just to be safe, I want more teams on watch until we leave. One team east of the tents and another on the western border."
Duane's face falls as he turns into his father's side. Guilt creeps into Morgan's expression and Erin's heart aches just a little bit more.
The warm air inside the tent helps to thaw the chill inside her grief stricken bones as Erin dries her tears on the clean black shirt covering Rick's broad shoulder. The hand gliding up and down in a soothing motion along her spine rests on her hip when she leans back and drags a wrist beneath her nose with a heavy sniffle. She takes a deep breath, easing the large lump in her throat. "What did you see out there, Rick?"
"Andrea was fighting off two walkers," he says softly. "She was bleeding pretty bad from her arm so I think she'd already been bit. Before we could reach her a third one came up from behind and bit her neck. There was nothing we could do," he says, his voice full of regret.
The image he'd just created burns horribly vivid behind her puffy eyes and her throat swells tight again.
"We searched the woods to make sure there weren't any more. We found Ed lying beneath two walkers. He was already gone."
A fresh wave of misery roils her little flutter. Not so much for Andrea and Ed - God knows she won't miss that man - but for what else could have happened. The fact that the walkers had gotten so close to camp. What if it had been Carl out there. Her belly rolls as a dread-filled chill scurries up her nape, sending a shiver from shoulder to shoulder. Rick pulls her close again and guides her head to rest easy against his chest.
"What are we going to do now?" she says, her voice hoarse and laced with despair as her fists clutch the material at his lower back.
"Tomorrow we'll bury Andrea and go on a quick supply run. Then the next morning," he continues, squeezing her tightly, "we get the hell out of here. Head for Savannah, just like we planned."
The thought of Savannah helps to soothe her frayed nerves. She closes her eyes and can almost feel the cobblestones beneath her feet as she walks along River Street, a gamut of seafood flavors drifting out of the restaurants to tease her senses. She imagines turning a corner toward the pretty garden squares nestled among the old Victorian homes with their gingerbread trim and wraparound porches. Their vibrant colors are shaded from the hot Georgia sun by the arching oak and cypress trees that line the quiet streets. Draped in swathes of Spanish moss, the trees remind her of the majestic weeping willow on the edge of their dream lake. She smiles at the memory of those dreams, and prays that their latest vision truly is the answer that they had been looking for; a safe haven to escape the horrors of the world and build a life worth living. Protected by miles of sandy beaches along the beautiful islands that make up its coastline, she is hopeful that the charming city of Savannah does indeed stand as a refuge. If only they can get there. Please God. "We will make it to Savannah, won't we?"
"We will, honey." He doesn't hesitate with his answer and she draws strength from that.
She inhales deeply, breathing him in and gathering more courage from his presence alone; the capable muscles beneath her hands, the strong heart beating soundly in her ear, the sharp mind that she would follow to the ends of the earth. "I love you, Rick."
"I love you back, sweetheart. Always."