Chapter 32
By the time they reach Lincoln Park, a tiny town that sits on the southern border of Thomaston, the sun is sitting low in the sky as it prepares to bid them farewell.
Crisscrossing the small grid, Rick circles back twice before he is satisfied that it is safe enough to explore further, and hopefully hunker down for the night. The area proves to be pretty much intact, as if everyone had fled the town as opposed to storming through it like so many other places he'd seen. With no spark of life – or death - in the sleepy little town, he pulls the van into the parking lot of a small abandoned motel.
The size of the one-story structure seems tiny, in contrast to the large lot sitting in front of it where long shadows stretch across the blacktop. Neatly arranged parking spaces are outlined in white paint just footsteps from the eighteen numbered doors. Rick parks sidelong in the center of the lot and looks at Kelly riding shotgun. "Stay here," he says as the other vehicles line up next to him.
After jumping in the camper to check on Erin and Amy, Rick leads the men to the manager's lobby , sitting on the left side of the L-shaped building under an A-framed roof. The sun streams into a large bay window to reveal a tall reception desk with a map of Upson County Georgia on the wall behind it.
He raps on the glass with three attention-getting knocks and then holds his hands to the pane, framing his eyes from the sun as he peers into the room. Two chairs sit empty in front of a lonely table in one corner of the room, within reaching distance of a brochure rack which informs the guests of the many sights to see in the area. Another small table lines the opposite wall with a plastic bin of bagels and muffins sitting next to a coffee maker. His mouth waters like one of Pavlov's dogs and he realizes he hasn't eaten anything all day. "It's clear," he says as Daryl shakes one of the two vending machines sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk in front of the office, offering an assortment of chips, candy, water and Pepsi products. "Come on, we'll come back for that after."
After collecting the master key and determining that every room is blessedly empty, Rick leaves Daryl with the vending machines and a crowbar and returns to the crowd gathered in front of the Winnebago. He meets Erin's tired eyes and then looks down at his son, leaning against her as she rubs her fingers through his hair with soothing affection.
Please let me keep them safe.
He gives them each a tight reassuring smile and turns his gaze to address the group. "Alright, we'll take the rooms at this end here," he says, swinging his arm to his right. "We don't all have to cram in together, but let's stay close. This town is empty right now but I want one team on watch at all times anyway." He glances toward the few cars parked along the quiet street near the sports bar on the corner. The wheels in his brain turn slowly, weary but working as they begin to form a plan.
If today's journey is any indication of what lies ahead, it's going to take them a long time to get to Savannah. With all these detours, they'll need a lot more gas. He looks at Glenn and T-Dog. "We've got a little bit of daylight left. Let's run through a couple of places right here to see what supplies we can scrounge. If it goes as well as I think it will, maybe we'll stay here for a couple of days, get our bearings and collect enough gas and food to get us to the coast."
As everyone moves to grab their gear from the cars, he walks straight to Erin and Carl. With one hand on his son's shoulder, he places the other on the back of her neck and leans in close. "Make sure you take a room next to Kelly and Carl." She nods in understanding and he gives her a quick kiss before stepping back. He looks down at his son between them. A sadness still lingers in the serious expression on his young face, but there's an excitement in his eyes as well; a spark of adventure in their depths that was lost inside the terrified boy of this morning.
Finding Amy had helped a great deal. Carl was devastated at Shane's death, but finding her helped to soothe that hurt. It had helped them all, giving them a little bit of hope in a desperately hopeless situation.
He crouches to his son's eye level. "Take care of the girls for me, okay? I'll be back in a little bit."
"Sure, Dad." The confident look on his little boy's face gives Rick another tiny boost of hope.
With a final look at Erin, he walks away amid a flurry of activity as the refugees scurry to settle in for the night.
Twenty five minutes later, the tip of the sun is just a small amber bubble on the treetops, smudging the dark gray sky with vast streaks of orange and yellow.
Rick adjusts the heavy trash bag in his grip as he follows Daryl back across the street to the dusky lot. As he had hoped, they'd found a good supply of food - along with a decent amount of booze – and the hunter's bag is as full as his. Nearing the camper, he can see Glenn and T-Dog already back and talking with Dale, two stuffed bags sitting at their feet as well.
"Wow, you guys really made out alright," Dale says as he reaches for the bag at Glenn's feet and hoists it into the RV.
"Yeah, we're definitely gonna stay here for a couple of days," Rick says wearily when the older man steps out again. He hands him his stash and then looks beyond Dale's shoulder toward the block of rooms with pale light spilling out of the opened doors and spread curtains.
"Erin took eighteen on the end for you, Rick," Dale says, obviously picking up on his intended target. Before he can ask, Dale adds, "And Carl is with Kelly and Amy next door. Carol and Sophia have Michonne with them in number sixteen," he continues as he points to the only closed door. "Morgan and Duane are in number fifteen and we saved number fourteen for Glenn and T-Dog." Rick watches him nod at the two men before making eye contact with Daryl. "Merle took twelve for you guys – something about not wanting to sleep behind an unlucky number - and I'm just gonna stay in the RV."
As if on cue, Merle emerges from room number twelve and makes a beeline for his brother - or for the bottle of alcohol in his brother's hand anyway. Daryl relinquishes the magnum of vodka and turns to Rick. "Me and Merle will take the first shift."
Rick looks at Merle and then glances down at the thick bandage where his right hand used to be. "You up for it?" he asks, knowing that the man is still in a lot of pain.
"Don't worry 'bout me, sheriff. I'm fine now that I've been reunited with an old friend." Merle lifts the bottle in a pseudo salute.
"I got this, Rick." Daryl says softly, meeting his eyes with assurance. "We'll be okay out here."
Rick nods his head with an exhausted look of resignation. "Cheers," he says bleakly before walking away, heading to room number eighteen with an old friend of his own gripped tightly in his fist.
After watching Rick walk off with Daryl, Erin had sent up a prayer to keep them safe and then carried their duffel bags into the last room of the row, right next to Carl and Kelly.
She'd opened the thick russet drapes and the fading sunlight glowed upon a set of rich deep blue queen-sized bedspreads surrounded by warm gold walls. A thin layer of dust shone upon the dark walnut dresser that matched the small round table by the window.
All she'd wanted to do was take a shower to wash away the morning's misery, but the beds had looked so damned inviting that she couldn't stop herself from lying across the foot of the closest one to relax for a moment before jumping into a cold shower. The plush pillow-topped mattress felt heavenly after sleeping on the air mattress for a month. She let her eyes fall closed for just a moment… just one moment. But lying on her side with her head resting on her arm, her eyes were as heavy as her heart and one moment melted into many…
When she opens her eyes now, the curtains are drawn closed and the soft light from a lantern shines upon the handsome man sitting in the chair watching her with hooded eyes and a bottle of scotch in his hand; a nearly empty bottle of scotch.
"Hey." She pushes herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. "Why didn't you wake me?" she asks around a yawn as she wipes her eyes and stretches her back.
"'Cause you looked so lovely lyin' there," he slurs slightly.
"I see you found the bar across the street," she says with a light smile, hoping the pity she feels for him isn't evident in her eyes.
He gives her a weak smile in return. "Best thing I've found all day." He emphasizes the statement with a strong swig from the bottle.
"Should I be worried about you?" she asks in mock concern. "You're not going to revert to your wild teenage days are you?"
"Not a chance. Not with you here to keep me on the straight and narrow. Besides, we only have one bottle. It'd take much more than that to get me hooked again," he says as he stands from the chair, and then sways heavily on his feet.
"I don't know, officer,"she says, jumping from the bed to steady him. "It seems to be going to your head pretty quickly." Taking the bottle from his hand, she sets it on the dresser next to the lantern and holds onto his hips as he begins to nuzzle her neck.
"Well it has been a long time since I had a drink. But I don't think it's the alcohol that's makin' me all warm and tingly." His breath is hot against her skin. "God, baby, do you have any idea what you do to me?"
"Yeah," she replies as he squeezes her rear ardently. "The same thing you do to me."
"Really?" he mumbles into her shoulder. "You have a dick that gets hard jus' thinkin' about me?"
"Umm, not exactly." She laughs, and then moans when his teeth clamp sharply on a small patch of skin at the base of her neck. "My parts get soft and soggy when I think about you and your hard parts."
He pulls her roughly against his arousal. "Mmmm… I love makin' your parts all soggy. You make me feel so good, Red. I just wanna feel good for a little while."
He takes her hand from his hip and places it on the zipper of his pants, closing his fingers over hers until she is grasping his length through the brown polyester of his uniform. "I know, baby." She parts her lips when he covers her mouth, and enjoys a sweet smoky taste as she strokes him through his trousers.
He pulls back suddenly and shoves his hands beneath her shirt to unhook the clasp of her bra, which proves to be an uphill battle for his inebriated fingers. "Hey, did ya know this place is madshical?," he says excitedly.
"Really?" She smiles, thoroughly enjoying his giddiness, however erroneous and brief it will be until he comes crashing down in remorseful sobriety. But after being so downhearted all day, she won't begrudge him this temporary escape. She doesn't have the heart to deny him that. And he is just so freaking cute. "What makes it so magical, honey?"
"It has hot water!" he says with a measure of awe as if revealing an incredible secret. "Let's go take a shower." He pulls back and begins to ineffectually finger the buttons of his shirt.
"Wow, the pilot must still be lit," she says, agreeing that it is pretty amazing.
"Yeah. Thank you baby Jesus!"
She grins at his use of her favorite expression. "Amen!" She moves her hands to his chest and slips her fingers beneath his to help with his buttons. When his lips crash into hers again, the world quickly disappears - along with their grief, and their clothes.
Leading him towards the shower, she undresses them both along the way. "Come on grimy Grimes, let's get you cleaned up."
He follows her into the stall and she feels him pressing against her rump when she bends over to turn the tap. Holding her hand under the cold water that pours into the tub, she's afraid that in his current state of intoxication he had just imagined the heat of the water. But a few moments later the water begins to warm against her fingers. She lifts the knob for the shower option and moans heartily when the marvelously hot spray hits her bare chest.
He presses his erection harder against her. "Oh yeah, you like that, baby?" he murmurs, mistakenly taking credit for her current pleasure.
"Oh yeah," she replies, referring to the water temperature but continuing to indulge him… and his pickled pride.
She turns to face him, slipping her arms around his neck as the water massages her back. He's so cute and carefree at the moment, his eyes brightened with liquor but shining with life. "You're feeling pretty good yourself, aren't you?"
"Yeah. You make me feel good," he responds as he lowers his forehead to hers and slips his hands around her waist. "I'm so glad you found me."
"Technically, you found me," she says, thinking of the day he'd walked into the camp.
"No, you found me first and then I found you back," he says. "I found you at the quarry after you woke me up." He lifts his head with a worried look. "Did I ever thank you for waking me up? Thank you for waking me up, Erin. That was a good day for me. A really good day for me." He nods enthusiastically, looking into her eyes with complete sincerity in his drunken gaze.
She chuckles at his rambling. "Yes, you did thank me. And you're welcome, honey." She presses her lips to his for a soft sweet kiss and he quickly takes it up a notch, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with a slightly sloppy voracity.
She holds onto his shoulders as he gropes her body with audacious hands. They stray and stroke, bold and brazen and tactless but determined. She turns within his arms, letting the warm water sluice down her face as he presses his chest against her back.
When she wiggles her ass against his erection, he squeezes her hip and pinches her nipple a little too hard. "Easy sheriff." She takes his hand and presses a soft kiss to his palm.
"I just love you so much, baby. I love you with all the madness in my soul."
She smiles, knowing that he doesn't even realize that he is quoting her favorite song. Maybe it's a residual memory from the first dream they'd ever had; running along the river with a stranger who didn't seem so strange.
She pulls his index finger between her lips, swirls her tongue around the rough pad and then guides it down to the juncture of her thighs. He groans and presses his arousal against the crease of her backside. She keeps her hand over his as he fits a finger inside of her. "Easy now, baby," she says softly, directing him with her voice as much as her hand. He manages to keep his movements slow and sure for a few blissful moments, but before long he is breathing heavily against her neck and slipping a second finger inside, swift and steadfast.
"I love your parts so much," he says in the hollow just below her ear as her flutter quickens with a whimper. "They fit so perfect with mine."
"Mmm yeah," she breathes, getting lost in the rhythm of his hand moving steadily beneath hers.
"I just want to get lost inside you." He withdraws as abruptly as he'd begun and turns her so that her back is to the wall. He bends slightly before her and grips the backs of her thighs, spreading them wide as he lifts her up against the tiles.
She grabs onto his shoulders and gasps on a groan as he thrusts deeply inside of her, burying himself in one mighty drive.
"You feel so fuckin'good. You're all I need. Please, baby. Just take me away."
He fills her womb and lights her soul as instinct takes over and his body moves in a rhythm that was created solely for her. His thrusts are sure and steady as their bodies unite again and again, hard meeting soft and fusing with fervor.
She holds onto him fiercely, clutching his hair tightly with one hand while the other claws his shoulder. Climbing an active volcano and nearing the top, her flutter suddenly falls away without warning as he grinds his hips to a halt after one forceful lunge, holding himself deep as he erupts explosively inside of her.
His shoulders roll with a violent shudder and he captures her mouth in a breathtaking kiss as the water beats down upon them. She pours her heart and soul into that kiss, loving him without judgment as her flutter lies in a small puddle of sympathy, drawing from a well of forgiveness as it rests unfulfilled, but accepting.
He buries his face in her neck and she feels him shudder once more with a heart-wrenching sob. He trembles in her arms and she knows that it is more than bath water streaming down her collarbone. It is the guilt and anguish of losing a treasured friend that is crashing down on him.
It is crushing but cathartic and she weeps for them both. Lifting his face, she kisses the corner of his mouth. "What happened this morning is not your fault, honey."
"I should've stopped him," he says, more to himself than to her as he shakes his head miserably.
She cradles his jaws to force his gaze on her. "Listen to me, Rick. You are not responsible for the decisions of everyone else."
"I couldn't stop him," he cries, the dullness of grief clouding the shimmer of liquor in his eyes.
"No, you couldn't. But you did try and that's all that anyone can do. You're a good man, honey. Don't you ever doubt that."
"Don't ever leave me, Erin," he begs, pulling at her heart with the misery in his tone.
She wipes the sorrow from beneath his eyes and then hugs him tightly when he lowers his head to her shoulder once more. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I can't lose you." He inhales deeply and releases a distilled breath of liquid hope as his fingers dig into her thighs. "I can't lose you."
"I'm right here, Rick. I'm right here." Always.