Author's Note: I know it's been almost a month since the last update, but it should be easier now to be more consistent with the second half of season 6 starting airing now. Won't say anything else other than: ENJOY! As always, please R&R!
- Holly, xoxo
"I've looked that old scoundrel death in the eye many times but this time I think he has me on the ropes."— Douglas MacArthur
"Everyone—get back! Get into your houses! Go!" Rick could be heard shouting, his bellowing voice carrying on the breeze, followed by several shots from his Colt Python.
Panic and fear was now reigning supreme within Alexandria as walkers poured into the streets from the downed section of wall. With the dust created from the fallen tower settling, Georgie could finally distinguish between the bodies of the living and the dead as everyone began to scatter to find safety. Several more gunshots echoed in the air, from others aside from Rick.
"Mom!"
Georgie whipped her head around to see her son standing on the front porch, gripping the railing and looking with wide eyes toward the chaos. "Tristan, get in the goddamned house!" she growled out at him. "I will not tell you again!"
Watching as her son went stock still from how she barked at him, she couldn't be worried about his feelings at the moment. She could only take relief when he finally obeyed and returned back inside where she needed him to be. Turning back around, as walkers got closer to the intersection where she was, she spotted Carl, Gabriel, and Rick and Michonne carrying an injured Deanna from the direction of the gazebo; all five coming together to find safety together. In the distance, she could just barely make out Maggie attempting to ascend a latter onto one of the lookout platforms and while she loved Maggie as a friend and part of her family, there was nothing Georgie could do from where she was and could only worry about her more immediate family, who were making their way toward her direction.
As walkers got into the way of the approaching fivesome, Georgie removed her gun from her back pocket, raised it and aimed. She fired at four walkers, managing only to get headshots into three; her aim decent despite her hands slightly shaking from the tenseness of the situation.
"C'mon!" she shouted to them. "In the house!"
"Where's Judith?" Rick asked frantically.
"I have her," Georgie assured, leading the way up into the blue house.
As soon as they were all inside and the door was shut, Georgie ran around to pull the curtains closed in the living room and then ushered Rick and Michonne upstairs where they could lay Deanna down on the bed in the room she had slept in while Jake was alive. Tristan stood in the kitchen the entire time, listening to the sound of footsteps pounding heavily and hastily up the stairs and upon the floorboards up above while Gabriel stood nearby to stay with the boy. Carl, meanwhile, darted around the main floor to check to make sure all curtains and blinds were closed and all doors were locked.
It was such a flurry of activity inside the house as Deanna was secured in a daybed in the upstairs study and Rick went to check on Judith who had been napping in her playard in Jake's old room. Content in knowing his daughter was okay, Rick and Georgie passed each other in the hallway. She was leaving her old room after giving Michonne some medical supplies to treat Deanna's wounds as the couple took half a second to inspect each other for any wounds of their own. Seeing nothing to cause worry between them, they gave a nod of relief toward one another before going separate ways for the moment; Rick to return to check on Deanna and Georgie to head back downstairs to check on Tristan and Carl and the overall security of the house's main floor.
Less than twenty minutes later, while everyone was hunkering down inside the house, Georgie ducked into Jake's old room which had the best view of most of Alexandria. She stood there, pushing the curtain aside as she peered out with utter dejection; worried about if everyone else had found safety and how long they could hole up with all those walkers freely wandering the streets.
"Deanna's been bit," Rick muttered softly as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He cast a look down at Judith sitting up in her playard before walking over toward the window to stand beside Georgie. "Fever's setting in. She doesn't have long. I'm assuming she knows what's gonna happen; that she's gonna change if she's not, you know, taken care of immediately afterward."
Georgie looked at him, closing he curtains and nodding sadly. "Deanna's a smart lady. This community might've been closed off for too long, but I've no doubt she's seen enough to know how it works."
"She's cracking jokes," Rick smirked, though his heart wasn't in it.
"I just…I can't believe this is happening," Georgie remarked. "I really thought the walls would hold."
"They would've," Rick replied. "They could withstand the walkers, just not a falling tower. We didn't realize how weakened it had gotten from that truck running into it. This is what happens…this is what happens when we let our guard down. I should've done something more…kept a better eye on…everything…"
Lifting a hand to his face, Georgie shook her head. "Don't you start that shit," she gently admonished as he looked her sadly in the eye. "Don't you dare start putting the blame on yourself. What happened, happened. There's no way around it. We just gotta wait it out."
Rick nodded. "There's enough food here to last us a while in here. I checked the fridge, the cupboards. We'll be okay, I think."
"We'll stay quiet, keep the lights off," Georgie added, agreeing with him that they could be okay. "We won't draw attention to ourselves."
"The walkers…they're bound to cluster up by then, move off to one area. When they do, I'll try and get to the armory...draw them away."
"Alone?"
"Yeah."
Georgie wasn't too pleased with that idea. "How're you gonna do that? With guns?"
"Flares," he answered. "I'll open the gate, fire 'em off; see if I get them somewhere…somewhere that's not here."
"I'm not overly keen on the idea of you doing it alone."
"Well, I can't take you with me, as much as I love having you at my side. This isn't one of those times I can risk it. I need you here this time, for our kids, because if something happens to me, they'll need you."
"Alright, maybe not me. But not alone. Please. Not alone."
Georgie's heart was racing at the thought of losing him and it showed on her face and in her eyes as she brought her hands up to rest upon Rick's blood-stained white shirt. She licked at her bottom lip before biting down nervously on it. Taking half a step closer, Rick lowered his forehead to press against hers; emitting a slight sigh.
"Okay," he whispered, taking her worry to heart. "I won't go alone." As a small smirk reached the corners of his lips, he added, "I could take Gabriel, use him as a human shield. He has yet to prove to me he'd be good for anything else."
Despite the callousness of the remark, Georgie couldn't help but allow herself to smile at it. "I think I'd be okay with that," she quipped, leaning closer toward him.
Slowly and softly, Rick brought his hands to Georgie's hips and gripped the belt loops of her jeans tightly with his index fingers to pull her body against his. Without a word, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips upon hers; finding solace in the way she reciprocated the gesture and lifted her hands up to cup the sides of his face.
The kiss didn't last long, but it was lovely regardless. Every kiss between them was lovely.
When Rick pulled back, he was looking at Georgie with tears brimming his lower eyelids; failing somewhat to maintain a steely resolve in such a trying time. His nerves were just so wracked from everything at the moment and he tried finding comfort in her gaze, which did help to an extent.
"I love you so much," he whispered, releasing a shaky sigh.
"I love you, too, baby," she replied, brushing her thumbs against his stubbly cheeks.
"I will fight till my dying breath to keep you and our kids safe."
"I know."
"I won't let anything happen to you or our kids."
Georgie smiled and nodded adamantly. "I know you won't. You just gotta promise nothing will happen to you, either."
Not saying anything, Rick just nodded, brought a hand to the back of Georgie's head and pulled her face closer so he could kiss her forehead. "I promise," he muttered quietly.
In the odd downtime that had befallen the group inside the blue house, Georgie took to feeding Judith a bottle while Rick went to speak with Michonne about Deanna and what they would do with her when the time came. Father Gabriel had made his way upstairs at all, taking a quiet moment to pray or whatever in Tristan's old room for a little while and Carl had taken it upon himself to keep Tristan occupied.
As she set Judith back down into the playard in Jake's old room, Georgie closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall to peer inside the study to see Deanna still lying on the daybed staring up at the ceiling as Michonne spoke quietly to her. Rick wasn't anywhere to be seen, causing Georgie to peer into the other room; interrupting Gabriel in a moment of prayer or whatever.
"Sorry," she muttered lamely.
He merely shook his head and shrugged. "Don't be."
Georgie hesitated from moving, keeping her hand on the doorknob. "Are you doing okay? Do you want a water bottle or something?"
Gabriel smirked, seeming almost amused. "I don't feel like I deserve a water bottle."
"Save the pity party for some other time, okay?" She twisted the doorknob slightly and looked out into the hall. "I wasn't going to get it for you. I was just going to tell you to help yourself. There's a few bottles in the fridge."
Without another word, Georgie stepped away from the room, leaving the door open as she began to head toward the stairs just as she heard the sounds of metal clattering from downstairs and muffled shouts. Tearing down the stairs like a bat out of hell, she was met by Rick at the bottom as he ran at the garage door and began banging on it and struggling to open it.
"Carl!" Rick shouted as Georgie joined him at his side.
Looking over her shoulder and not immediately seeing her own son, and knowing Carl had been keeping an eye on Tristan, Georgie was able to assume both boys were in the garage together.
"Tristan!" she cried out, mirroring Rick's panic as the sound of glass shattering echoed from within the garage, along with the snarling of walkers.
"Carl! Let me in! Carl, open the door!"
"Tristan, open the door right now!"
Taking a step back, Rick removed the hatchet from his belt and pushed Georgie aside about two feet. "Back up," he warned.
Raising his arm he began to hack at the deadbolt as well as the doorknob. The muscles in his arms and shoulders ached with the force in which he struck downward and the relief he felt in being able to get the door open was enough to give him contentment. He'd worry about everything else as soon as he got their boys back into the house, to safety.
"Come on!" he called out to the boys, who scattered in from the garage like bats out of hell, almost tripping over their own two feet in the process.
Walkers were surprisingly quick to reach the door and since it no longer could be locked or close on its own, Rick had to lean his body weight against it with the assistance of Georgie. The undead bodies pushing back from the other side of the door was proving difficult, but Carl came up between the adults to help while Tristan stumbled back and squatted down near the bottom of the stairs. Michonne came trampling down in a flurry, her dark eyes wide with concern and Gabriel was right behind her. And, surprisingly, he was the one to join Rick in grabbing the couch from the living room and tipping it up against the door as a door as a makeshift barricade. The couch only did so much though, and only because Rick, Gabriel and Carl were pushing against it.
"We need more, and we need to be more quiet," Rick advised through gritted teeth.
"I'll see what I can find," Michonne commented, disappearing toward the front of the house.
Gabriel lifted off the couch, "Me, too," Gabriel insisted.
"I got it," Georgie remarked, taking the spot on the other side of Carl, pushing against the couch with all the strength she could muster.
"Hey—hey, what happened in there?" Rick demanded of his son. "We heard yelling."
Carl looked between his father and Georgie and then subtly over his shoulder toward Tristan. Tipping his face forward, he whispered, "He was mad I told you two about what he told me. He threw a hammer at me, but he missed; broke a window instead."
Georgie's eyes widened from embarrassment over her son's actions. She threw a look of disappointment over her shoulder toward Tristan who was looking down at his fingers. Returning her gaze toward Carl and Rick, she found the latter staring back at her with frustration.
"I'm sorry about that, Carl," she apologized on behalf of her son.
"It's okay," the teen insisted.
"No, it's not."
"How come the door was locked?" Rick asked.
"He locked it," Carl whispered.
Georgie dipped her own head, shaking it in her own frustration over…everything. "Tristan, go upstairs to your room and stay there, do you understand?" she bit out. "Shut the door and stay put."
Without a word, Tristan stood up off the bottom stair and ran up to the second floor. Moments later, a door slammed.
"I'm sorry," Carl remarked.
"Why are you sorry?" Rick questioned, confused.
"I was supposed to keep a better eye on him. I went to take a look out one of the front windows to see what the walkers outside were doing and he darted in her," Carl nodded in the garage's direction.
"It's not your job to keep an eye on him," Georgie assured. "He's my son. This is on me."
"No," Rick shook his head. "Don't put this on yourself; either of you. This is him, unfortunately. This is just him. We'll deal with it, with him, as soon as we get all this taken care of."
Rick looked over his son's head at Georgie; the pair locking concerned eyes with each other as Michonne and Gabriel came walking over, dragging nightstands from the downstairs extra bedroom with him to brace the couch with. Once that was secured, the trio stepped back and moved toward the living room. They could all see silhouettes of walkers on the porch from behind the curtains covering the windows. Michonne peered outside briefly alongside Gabriel.
"The noise from the garage—it drew more," Michonne remarked, "which is drawing even more off the street because there's more."
Rick placed his hands on his hips and hung his head with a sigh. Georgie looked back at him as Carl darted beside Michonne to get a glimpse out the window as well. Up above, the sound of Judith crying began to carrying all the way downstairs so Rick took his leave, informing the other's he'd go get her. The others went about making sure all the doors were not only locked, but barricaded with bulky pieces of furniture, like the kitchen table, a desk, the box spring off the downstairs bedroom's bed.
After a while, though, none of it was holding anymore.
As the weight of the walkers on the other side of the front door began to push the door inward, the others attempted to push back.
"Rick!" Georgie cried out, calling nervously for him.
A few moments later, he whipped down the stairs and turned into the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process before darting across the living room to assist with keeping the box spring in its position against the front door.
"There's just too many of them," Gabriel grunted, pressing his weight against the box spring.
As walkers began to push through a poorly barricaded door in the breakfast nook beside the kitchen, Michonne withdrew her katana from the scabbard on her back and barked, "Everybody, get upstairs now!"
As the other released their hold on the front door barricade, Michonne slice-n-diced several of the approaching walkers as Georgie, grabbed at Carl's sleeve to pull him back toward the stairs alongside Gabriel, while Rick helped Michonne keep any offending walkers at bay. When the latter pair reached the stairs, themselves, they gripped the couch that had been barricading the garage door and pulled it away to create a new barrier at the base of the stairs to prevent any walkers from getting up to the second floor.
Georgie was already at the top of the stairs, waiting with Carl while Gabriel had gone into the study to take a seat on the daybed Deanna no longer occupied. She didn't know where the dying woman was, or if she was even still alive, but she was certain Rick had that all squared away, either way it went. As she waited with bated breath, Carl withdrew his own gun both spotted Rick and Michonne dragging to dead walkers up the stairs.
Looking at his son, Rick gave a nod. "You stay here. You see anyone squeezing through, you get me."
"Okay," Carl agreed, keeping watch at the top of the stairs.
Rick continued onward, panting, as he dragged the walker in her arms through the upstairs hallway behind Michonne and set it down on the floor of the study.
"We're gonna need bed sheets, enough for everyone," Rick advised as Gabriel ducked out of the room in search of the sheets.
"Bed sheets for what?" Georgie asked, curiously, standing outside the study as Rick looked back at her.
"We all go to the armory."
"Are we creating a diversion somehow? I'm sure there's some hard liquor Jake had stored away in this house. We could make a few Molotov cocktails to throw. Stuff the bottles with strips of material from the sheets, maybe?"
"As creative an idea as that is, babe: no." Rick shook his head and gestured to the two dead walkers lying side by side on the floor. "We're gonna gut these things. Cover ourselves with the insides. It'll mask our smell; make them think we're like them," he explained, rubbing at his nose with the back of his bandaged hand. "I've done it before. We stay calm, we don't draw attention, we can move right through them."
Georgie nodded. "Carol and I did it before, too. At Terminus."
"So you can see how this will work." It was a statement, not a question, but he looked at her as if expecting her to confirm she understood regardless.
Nodding again, Georgie stepped into the room. "Yeah, it'll work."
"They're in the house, they're making noise," Michonne muttered, stabbing her katana down into the gut of the walker closest to her. "More are coming."
Gabriel returned with the sheets at the very moment Rick and Michonne were pulling the innards out of the bodies and he turned his face as if he was going to vomit. Rick looked up to see the reaction and the doubt on the preacher's face.
"Anyone who stays here is going to die," the former sheriff's deputy insisted.
"What about Deanna?" Gabriel questioned, holding the sheets up to his face to block the putrid scent while he could.
"Deanna was bit," Georgie commented. "She doesn't have much longer. Bringing her with us won't buy her more time and she'll just slow us down. She's gonna have to stay here."
Rick caught her eye and nodded in agreement, but then returned his attention to gutting open his walker.
"Where is she, by the way?" Gabriel inquired.
"In the room at the end of the hall, where Judith was earlier," Rick replied. "Deanna had gotten up from in here and gone to see Judith, but her legs gave out. I set her down in the bed there, moved Judith to the room next door to keep her safe. I couldn't leave Deanna alone with my daughter. Not now, not when she could…"
The end of his thought went unsaid, but everyone understood he meant to say that if Deanna had died and reanimated while everyone else was downstairs, she could've attacked Judith. It wasn't safe to leave Judith alone with Deanna anymore.
A short while later, Georgie had grabbed some scissors off the study's desk and cut holes in the middle of all the sheets for where everyone's heads would go through. She pulled one over her head and then passed out the rest to Gabriel, Rick and Carl. When Michonne returned from saying her goodbyes to Deanna, she took a sheet as well. Rick began the nauseating process of lathering his son with blood and guts while Georgie exited the room and opened up the door to Tristan's room.
There, on the floor, her son sat on his old bed, staring up at her as soon as she entered the room.
"Tristan, you can come out now."
"Am I done being punished?"
"You're not being punished," she assured. "What you did in the garage was wrong and you do owe Carl an apology, but that can wait. Right now we need to leave this house." Holding out her hand to her son, she waited for him to stand up and take it. "We gotta disguise ourselves from the walkers, though."
"How?"
Georgie beckoned to him with the curl of her index finger and then nodded toward the study across the hall. As Tristan stood up, he peered into the other room with curiosity and Georgie was almost certain she saw a smile of amusement on his face.
"It smells," the boy grimaced.
"Tell me about it," Carl muttered with a slight smile to show his surrogate brother he held no hard feelings for earlier.
Georgie led Tristan into the study and took the last sheet; placing it over her son's head and then crouching down to lather the blood and guts all over him while Rick did the same for her. Despite what was being spread across the sheet covering her upper half, she took considerable comfort in Rick's strong hands moving along her back and shoulders to make sure she was thoroughly covered. Georgie managed to take care of her own front while sharing a nervous look with the man she loved.
No part of the walkers insides were left untouched. They used every bit they could, including flaps of decayed skin and the internal organs; draping it on their shoulders and sticking it upon each other's fronts and backs.
"We gotta move," Rick informed.
"Tris," Georgie spoke, turning toward her son. "When we get downstairs and when we go outside, you need to be silent. You can't make any noise, okay? Do you understand?"
Rick hesitated in what he was doing, and it seemed as if the others did to, as they waited for the boy's response.
Tristan nodded adamantly. "I'll be quiet."
Georgie released a shaky, but relieved sigh. She believed with all her heart that her son could be okay, and that as soon as they got through this literal mess, she and Rick could pick back up where they planned on getting Tristan the help he needed to work through the issues he had. She just hoped that Denise was alive and safe, wherever she was. Whether or not the medical professional could help Tristan or not, she was still the community's only doctor now and therefore they'd need her regardless.
Gripping Tristan's shoulders, she stood up and leaned down to place a kiss atop his head. "I love you, you know."
"I know," he assured. "I love you, too, mom."
Michonne ducked out of the study then and made her way out into the hall toward the top of the stairs. "We have to go," she whispered back to the others, who began to file out into the hallway as well.
Rick moved toward the top of the stairs, looking down over the railing and then looked back at Georgie as she stood behind Tristan, gripping his shoulders, and had Carl at her side. Gabriel still looked uneasy about everything, but was pushing his doubts and fears as far down as he could muster.
"We're ready," Georgie insisted.
Rick nodded. "I'll get Judith."
As he moved to head back down the hall, Gabriel reached out to him. "Rick, I'm not gonna give up out there. I will not turn back, no matter what happens," the preacher adamantly vowed.
Rick stared the other man directly in the eye. "Yeah, I know," he nodded again, somehow believing Gabriel's words to be true. When he returned less than a minute later with his daughter in his arms, the little girl look none too pleased about the situation, as if she could sense what was about to go down.
"I got her," Georgie offered, lifting up her bloody poncho.
Locking eyes, Rick silently thanked Georgie, knowing she would protect his little girl; that she would put Judith's life before her own if it came down to it. Passing Judith off, Georgie wrapped one arm underneath the girl's bottom and the other across her back, keeping her close against her chest. Momentarily, Georgie removed the hand from Judith's back to check that she had her gun secured in her back pocket, as well as her hunting knife which she kept strapped to her leg most days. With a nod to Rick, she watched as he headed up leading everyone quietly down the stairs, one behind the other.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rick casually and quietly pushed the couch out of the way and moved carefully around it as he slipped by the first approaching walker that paused to sniff him out. Satisfied that his scent was successfully masked, Rick continued to push forward, with Georgie directly behind him carrying Judith under her poncho (and praying like crazy to a God she didn't believe existed that the little girl didn't start to cry), followed by Tristan who was gripping a finger through one of the belt loops of his mother's jeans, then Carl, Gabriel and Michonne bringing up the rear.
Stepping into the downstairs living space was rather horrifying. It was so congested with so many bodies of the undead that it was practically a miracle that their small procession made it out the front door and onto the porch where they took a momentary pause. Taking in the sight of the overrun community, with walkers everywhere on the streets, the group looked at each other as they steeled their nerves just as several gunshots rang out from one somewhere upstairs in the house.
It could only mean one thing: that the gun Deanna had to off herself in the end with she was now choosing to use to take out as many walkers as she could, and go out blazing instead.
Michonne reached for Gabriel's hand then, and he took hold of Carl's. Carl looked down, catching on, and grabbed for Tristan's hand. Tristan, still gripping the belt loop of his mother's jeans was already part of the link being created to keep everyone together. Feeling the tug on her belt look, Georgie looked down and behind her, giving her son a small smile and then noticing the others. Removing one hand from Judith, Georgie removed it from underneath her poncho and then reached for Rick's hand, entwining her fingers through his.
Rick looked at his hand in hers; both were covered in blood from the walkers they'd coated themselves with. He raised his eyes up to her face, wishing he could take a moment to kiss her and hug her and voice his belief that they could be okay, but there wasn't time for that right now. Instead, he had to say it all with a quick look and hope she understood the sentiment behind it.
And she did.
Georgie squeezed his hand briefly and gave a slight nod of her head, and then she let him lead them all down from the porch and out onto the street, as he occasionally looked back at everyone to make sure no one had gotten separated.
As they all moved silently along the road, with the sun rapidly approaching the horizon, beads of sweat rolled down their faces. Their hands had released from one another here and there to allow several walkers to move between them, as not to draw attention to themselves. Several walkers were missing large portions of their bodies due to the bites that had probably caused their deaths. Some had their insides hanging out of their outside, jaws were unhinged or missing altogether, one or two seemed like their heads were barely managing to stay on as their necks were very clearly broken. It was just an all-around tense situation the group was trying to get through.
Leading them over toward some large shrubbery on the side of the road near the lake, Rick gathered the group up and quietly addressed them without drawing unwanted attention. Carl and Michonne, while listening to what he was going to say, took it upon themselves to keep lookout for any walkers that noticed their group converged there in conversation.
"Alright, new plan," Rick began in a low voice. "Flares from a few guns aren't enough. Too many walkers, too spread out. We're not going to the armory. We need our vehicles back at the quarry. All of us drive. We'll need to round 'em up. We leave, we come back."
Georgie looked Rick in the eye and nodded. "Okay," she agreed. Then, looking down at the bump underneath her poncho that was her surrogate daughter, added with concern, "But Judith…to the quarry and back…"
Rick seemed to understand what she meant, that it was too risky to take the little girl that far, and it just wasn't the safer option. Wiping away some sweat from his face with his thumb, he looked around them, trying to work out a way around his plan that accommodated his daughter better.
"I'll take her," Gabriel spoke up. "I'll keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away."
"Can you do this?" Georgie questioned.
Gabriel looked at her and nodded. "I'm supposed to. I have to." Then, to Rick, he added, "I will."
With Rick's assistance, Georgie lifted her poncho and passed Judith to the preacher who was softly shushing her when she began to whimper. Walker blood was smudged on her cheek and Georgie reached out to wipe it away.
In an afterthought, before he could step away, Georgie grabbed onto Gabriel's arm. "Take Tristan with you."
"No, mom," the boy countered. "I want to stay with you."
"Tris, it'll be safer this way. I need you to go with Father Gabriel," she insisted, leaning down more to his level.
"I was a part of stuff like this before; before Alexandria. I'm not scared, mom."
Georgie raised her brow at her son. "Well, I am." Casting a glance from Tristan to Rick, she let her shoulders slump. "Okay." She looked back down at Tristan and gave his hand a squeeze. "Okay."
Gabriel looked from her and then over to Rick to make sure he was still okay with him leaving with Judith. "I'm going to keep her safe," he promised.
"Thank you."
When he got the nod of assurance, the preacher looked around at the others and wrapped his arms firmly around the little girl's body under his poncho before he began the precarious trek forward along the road. None of the rest moved; too nervous to take their eyes off Gabriel's retreating form, surrounded by oblivious walkers, and wanting to make sure he got to his church with Judith in one piece.
Literally.
As he began to shake from the fear that walkers would figure something was off, attack and subsequently kill his daughter, Rick looked panic-stricken and tears began to well in his eyes until Georgie reached out and took his hand in hers.
"Hey—he's going to make it," she assured. "Okay? I know it."
Allowing her voice and the touch of her hand to center him and calm his nerves enough to move forward with their impending task, Rick nodded in agreement to what she said to him and squeezed her hand tightly in place of the kiss he desperately wanted to give her. With a nod of his head toward the others, they began to link hands once again: Georgie took Tristan's hand, Tristan took Carl's, and Carl took Michonne's.
Slowly and silently they crept along the edge of the road. The sky overhead was growing darker. The sunlight effortlessly slipped below the horizon, allowing the stars to gradually become more visible. Walkers nearing the small group of five forced them to unintentionally stiffen their posture and pause in their movement to allow those walkers to move past them without incident. What would've taken less than a minute to get to the main gate felt like it was taking hours. The stop and go was making them feel more and more tense with each passing moment.
By the time they had made it just past the Millers' house and were just that much closer to the gate, Carl looked down at his hand when he noticed Tristan's had slipped from it. He let his gaze follow the younger boy's movements, curious why he'd let go now and saw him adjusting something under his poncho.
"Tristan," Carl whispered, leaning forward to get his surrogate brother's attention to make sure he was staying on task. They were so close to the exit. "Tristan, what are you doing?"
Carl could feel Michonne giving his hand a squeeze so he looked over his shoulder at her to find her giving him a look to know what was up. When he looked back ahead he could see that his father and Georgie was still slowly walking along, with Georgie still holding her son's other hand; both adults unaware as to whatever it was Tristan was doing. Not that Carl was privy to whatever it was, though. He was still just as confused…that is, until he saw the boy's arm slip out from underneath the poncho, holding something black and solid in his hand.
Carl's heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat at the sight of the handgun Tristan had; wondering how the boy had gotten it and how long he'd had it. Carl knew his father and Georgie would've never given Tristan a gun, considering his obvious issues.
"Georgie," Carl whispered in a slightly louder tone to get her attention when he saw Tristan was raising the gun upward.
Hearing her name, Georgie stopped, as did Rick when he felt the pull on his arm when he went to keep walking but that Georgie wasn't following. Both of them turned around and flinched at the sight of her so raising a gun at them. Because of how they were standing, nearly side by side, it was hard to tell exactly which of them Tristan was aiming at.
"Tristan, what are you doing?" Georgie quietly demanded; her eyes wide with fear and her nerves beginning to fray. "Put that away."
"Tristan," Rick muttered, taking a step closer and holding a hand up. "Not now. Don't do this now. Just keep moving."
"This is the monsters' world now," Tristan spoke. "Monsters kill me. My dad killed people. He was a monster." The boy shifted his aim more toward Rick. "You killed my dad. You're a monster." He then pointed directly at his mother's face. "You let Avery get killed. You're a monster."
Tristan was shaking. If he fired the gun, it wouldn't be a direct hit, wherever he was aiming, but it could still be a fatal shot due to the close proximity. When Rick tried to step even closer to figuratively talk his surrogate son down off the edge, the boy switched his aim back toward him and seemed to steel his own nerves and calm down somewhat.
Georgie was shaking now, though. Walkers were starting to realize something was off. Their decaying heads tilted, alerted to the sudden movements and new sounds and began to move closer to the small group clustered together in an anxious standoff of sorts.
"I killed Melissa," Tristan continued, starting to cry. "I'm a monster."
"No. No, baby," Georgie shook her head. "You-you're just confused and scared. It's okay, though. Just…just put the gun down."
"Tristan, please," Carl pleaded, eyeing the walkers that were catching on to their elevated situation. "We gotta move. They hear us."
"We're all monsters. Monsters are bad. Monsters should be alive. They're supposed to be in stories," Tristan whimpered.
And like that, Tristan's scared little face went blank as an unnerving sense of calm seemed to wash over him. Holding his gun with a sturdier arm, he aimed at either Rick or Georgie.
Carl couldn't tell.
The second the teen saw the boy was going to pull the trigger, Carl grabbed at the back of Tristan's poncho and pulled him back. The gun still went off and Georgie cried out in pain. Thanks to Carl's quick thinking, the bullet only struck her shoulder, most likely missing anything vital. Rick let out a cry of fear, initially thinking she'd been fatally hit, and as he pulled her back up to her feet, as her own blood was now soaking into her poncho, but with all the walker blood and guts covering her, it was impossible to differentiate. The pain from the bullet felt like searing hot fire. However, adrenaline kept her upright and kept her going.
As she and Rick both looked at her son, and as Rick was about to make a move to grab for the gun, walkers descended onto Tristan, one on each side of him; biting into his shoulder and the side of his face, respectively. When the boy screamed out in pain, he instinctively pulled the trigger of his gun again, firing off a wayward shot as he was starting to get pulled apart by dead teeth and dead hands.
Rick stopped, too stunned at the moment to move. His chin quivered and tears began rolling down his face at the horrible scene playing out before his eyes. Even Michonne who was usually quick to action was frozen in her spot for the moment, trying to process what was happening.
Georgie, on the other hand, suddenly went numb.
It was like she was watching a very terrible movie, or having one of those out of body experiences, which allowed her to find a way to remove herself emotionally from the situation.
Watching as her son got pulled slowly down to the ground so the walkers could properly devour him, Georgie slipped her right hand under her poncho and removed her own gun. Without missing a beat, she removed the safety, and fired two shots: one into the head of the walker blocking her view of her son's face, and then one into Tristan's forehead to allow him to stop feeling pain and prevent him from coming back later.
After that, though, Georgie went stock still.
"Dad?"
Carl's voice cut into the muffled noise in Georgie's head. She turned and followed Rick's gaze away from her own son to look over to see Carl looking back at them with a bloody, shredded wound where his right eye was supposed to be. Fresh blood was streaking down his he dropped down to the pavement like a sack of coal.
"C-Carl, no," Rick whimpered, his world suddenly breaking and falling apart.
"Georgie," Michonne grabbed at her fellow woman's hand and yanked her forward just as Rick dropped to his knees and hoisted Carl up into his arms.
Sensing the seriousness, Georgie allowed herself to be pulled forward as Michonne used her katana to slice at approaching walkers. Quickly enough, the ginger-haired woman was able to snap out of it enough to run forward as Michonne cleared a path for them. Rick brought up the rear, his possibly dead or dying son in his arms as they made a beeline for the infirmary. It was their only option now. The entire trek was a blur to Georgie, despite her level of alertness. The Beretta 92FS she had in her hand was capable of holding fifteen rounds of 9mm ammunition and before the two shots she'd fired, the chamber had been full, which meant she had thirteen shots left to make count before needing to rely on her hunting knife alone.
No matter how alert she appeared or seemed, though, her mind was clouded and her aim was worse than a typical bad day. If she'd cleared three head shots, that was a lot. She was forced to kick at any walkers trying to reach for her and knock them back so she could get by.
Michonne, ahead of Georgie, was panting and wild-eyed with sheer panic as she cut into anything in her way; her first and only priority to get help Rick get Carl inside the infirmary. Rick, behind Georgie, was sobbing as he ran, losing his footing every few steps as his weakened mental state messed with his agility. Georgie, breathing heavily from their collective sudden exertion, pulled the trigger on her gun once more and it just clicked. She had fired all remaining thirteen rounds, not realizing it had gone that quickly or how badly her aim was at the moment. Without thinking on it, she let her gun drop and unsheathed her hunting knife instead, feeling more at home and more satisfied to jab the longer blade deep into a few skulls.
They rounded the corner on the upper road and reached the infirmary quickly enough. Georgie and Michonne remained behind long enough to allow Rick to enter inside the building first and then Michonne moved to follow. When Georgie hesitated, the dreadlocked woman grabbed for her hand again to urge her forward.
"Georgie, c'mon."
Pulling the Georgie into the infirmary with her, Michonne slammed the door shut behind them while Rick set his son down on a gurney.
"This is a gunshot?" Denise called out.
"Handgun. Close range," Michonne replied, tensely.
"Please…please save him," Rick muttered, utterly beside himself. "Please."
A surgical light got switched on, shining down over Carl so Denise could see what she was doing and Spencer was quick to complain that the light would draw the walkers to them.
"I need light," Denise contended as Michonne pulled off her poncho and then did the same for Rick.
Stepping over toward a somewhat withdrawn Georgie, Heath mirrored Michonne, removing the redhead's poncho for her and then placing a strong hand upon her shoulder. "Georgie, you've been shot," he remarked, but his words seemed to fall upon dead ears.
"Michonne, towel; hold it here," Denise was still speaking. "Okay we need to keep pressure to the wound. I'll go in and sew up any lacerations. Just like that, right here. Now, Spencer, I need that pan. That one on the tray. Good. I'm going to clean and close this. Michonne, keep following me with the towel."
Everything Denise was saying was jumbling all together for both Rick and Georgie. There was a pounding in their heads from the loss of her son and the impending loss of his and neither seemed capable of processing their respective grief at the moment. Georgie couldn't even register the pain in her shoulder from her own gunshot wound.
Bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, and then dragging his hand down his face, Rick paced for a bit; throwing the occasional look back at the team working to take care of his son. Moving toward the window beside the door, he pushed a shade aside and looked out at the darkened street at the walkers ambling around none the wiser; just doing what walkers did. Walk. Georgie was standing there behind him, in a daze and still gripping her hunting knife.
Clenching his jaw, Rick turned and looked at Georgie. In doing so, all he saw was her mercy killing her son who had tried to kill her. Looking at Georgie, all he saw was the boy's face being ripped off him by the eternally hungry undead.
Dropping his eyes down, toward her bloody hand and her bloody hunting knife, Rick removed the hatchet from his utility belt. Turning to face Georgie more fully, he locked eyes with her after a moment and they each seemed to feel as if they were staring into an abyss rather than each other's eyes. There was no emotion other than the raging sea of anger that was starting to rear its ugly head within them. He nodded down at her knife and she looked at the hatchet in his hand and nodded back at him.
Without a word, Rick pulled the infirmary door open and stalked right outside with Georgie following and slamming the door behind them, with Michonne calling nervously after them, asking what they were doing.
In true couple fashion, Rick and Georgie sauntered off the infirmary's small porch, side by side. Raising their individual weapons, they brought them down upon and into the skulls of the first walkers that approached. They chopped, stabbed, swung and sliced and impaled the affronting dead. They kicked and shoved bodies back to buy themselves some room with which to work and, in Rick's case, even tossed a body over his back. They grabbed walkers by the throats, holding them at a safe distance to use as temporary shields as they pushed their way along the road while simultaneously hacking at the faces of other walkers.
Angry, frustrated grunts escaped their lips as they snarled right back at the dead trying to bite at them. Every drop of rage, anguish and grief that was building up inside them they funneled into the task of dispatching as many walkers as they could instead of dealing with their personal traumas head on. The throbbing physical pain Georgie was feeling in her shoulder was worse, the longer she went without getting it looked at. She had no idea if the bullet was still in her or if it had gone through and through. Either way, it hurt like all hell but it was fuel for the fire that forced her onward.
Fluidly, they moved in tandem, as effortlessly in a fight for their lives as they did between the sheets. Their bodies weren't just made for each other, but also to fight alongside each other.
Blood splatter ricocheted from their blades, causing themselves to get splashed here and there but they couldn't care less how it felt or looked. They simply needed to make a dent in the crowd; to make a stand against the dead. It wasn't a badge of honor sort of thing, but the pair proudly wore that blood and viscera on their clothes, in their hair and on their skin without a second thought to it.
In what was likely only minutes, Michonne ran out of the infirmary to assist them with Heath, Aaron and Spencer in tow. As they all grouped together, they put their backs to each other, facing out in unified formation. They six of them fought side by side, hacking and hacking as the amount of undead bodies falling dead at their feet began to pile up.
"Knock 'em away! Drive 'em down!" Rick shouted, as he turned and saw both Eric and Olivia running down the stairs of a house with blades of their own in their hands to join the good fight. Just beyond those two, he could see Rosita, Eugene, Tara, Morgan, Carol, Tobin and even Gabriel coming forward in such a rallying moment that Rick forgot what had happened to his and Georgie's sons for a few moments as he was overcome by everyone joining together as one group. "We can beat 'em!"
As one family.
More and more surviving Alexandrian residents came out of the woodworks with whatever weapons they had on hand. All of them together, and unrelentingly, drove the numbers down. They never stopped. They never backed down. They were determined to keep fighting until the last walkers in the streets were lying dead on the ground, and they wouldn't stop there. They would go into the homes that walkers had gotten into, and they would take those down, too.
In fact, it wouldn't be until hours later that Rick or Georgie would've overheard that one of the walkers in the blue house had been Deanna, who had apparently not spared a bullet for herself and had in fact opted to use them on the walkers coming for her.
Shots near the main gate could be heard, revealing Maggie atop the wall with none other than Enid as Glenn had appeared, trying to take out as many walkers as he could to draw them away from his wife. And, just when it seemed as if Glenn was a goner, yet again, a barrage of gunfire opened up on the walkers surrounded the younger man and he looked up to find Sasha and Abraham brandishing automatic, military-grade weaponry.
As the fight was continuing in the streets, suddenly a huge explosion erupted over the lake as fire billowed upward and outward across the surface of the water.
Taking a moment to pause, Rick saw a fuel truck parked at the lake's edge and Daryl standing atop with a rocket launcher, looking like a motherfucking badass. For the tiniest fraction of a second, Rick almost felt jealous, but he soldiered on with the task at hand as the large, bright flames flickered wildly and drew the attention of the walkers on the streets. Somehow no longer interested in the living, the light and the heat of the fire pulled the walkers away and they began to trudge forward toward the lake and into the water; several of which unceremoniously caught on fire.
Like moths to a flame.
"Don't let up!" Rick shouted.
They could use the distraction of the fire to their advantage and come at the walkers without them realizing it.
They would be successful.
They would save their community.
Hours later, as the sun began to peak up over the horizon, dark smoke wafted through the air along the streets from the fire still somewhat burning on the lake's surface. Blood and bodies of fallen walkers were scattered all over and it looked like an overall war zone.
Outside the infirmary, on the small porch, many of the Alexandrians stood around, paced or sat. Inside, Denise was stitching up a wound on Daryl's back, Glenn was bringing Maggie something to eat, and Michonne was cradling Judith in her arms while Rick sat in a chair in another room, with Carl unconscious in a bed beside him; the right side of his head bandaged up.
Across the room, on the floor and leaning against the wall, Georgie sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and resting her blood- and tearstained face in her bloodstained hands. A mere few hours before, when the last walkers had been done in, she had finally stopped moving and with the rush of adrenaline through her system dissipating, the blood loss and pain finally took hold and she promptly passed out. Rick had holstered his axe and dropped down to pick her up the same way he had Carl, only this time he also had Aaron to help him; the latter grabbing up Georgie's hunting knife she had dropped in the process. When she'd come to, she had her shoulder finally taken care of by Denise, who had promptly fished out the bullet which had still been lodged within her shoulder. Fortunately, there seemed to be no bone, joint or arterial damage, although there could be long-lasting nerve damage due to waiting so long to get the wound taken care of. The bullet was removed, the wound was cleaned, stitched up and dressed, and George was given a considerable dose of pain medication to boot.
She was no longer in physical pain, just emotional.
Sitting there, with her eyes closed from exhaustion, but avoiding sleep Denise had insisted on, Georgie opted to be in the bedroom with Rick as he kept vigil at his son's side. If it weren't for the teen yanking her son back, the gunshot wound she'd received could've been fatal. Two or three inches lower and she would've been struck through the heart and dead before she hit the ground. She owed Carl her life, and for that, she would remain nearby until she passed out or should Rick decide he wanted to be alone.
So far, neither had happened.
"I was wrong," Rick whispered.
Georgie lifted her head, thinking she was speaking to her for a moment. When she saw he was looking at Carl, she simply tilted her head back against the wall and looked over at the teen's peaceful face.
"I thought after living behind these walls for so long that...maybe they couldn't learn," Rick was speaking to his son, holding his hand, as tears were rolling down his face. "But today...I saw what they could do…what we could do…if we work together. We'll rebuild the walls. We'll expand the walls. There will be more. There's gotta be more. Everything Deanna was talking about is possible. It's all possible. I see that now. When I was out there...with 'em...when it was over...when I knew we had this place again...I had this feeling. It took me a while to remember what it was...because I haven't felt it since before I woke up in that hospital bed."
Georgie pursed her lips tightly together, watching Rick touch his hand gently down upon his son's head while he began to cry. She could see the anxiety in his face, the fear of his son not pulling through after everything. She had known that fear, and it had become a reality twice now for her. If Carl died now, there would still be Judith for Rick, but he would be a broken man, just as she was a broken woman. His soul would be torn in two and she didn't want that for him. He was too good of a man to suffer the pain of losing his child. She didn't want him to go through what Michonne, Carol and she were now unfortunate predicament they were in.
When you lose your husband or wife, you're a widow or widower. When you lose your mother and father, you're an orphan. But what do you call a parent who has lost their child? Is there not a name for that?
"I want to show you the new world, Carl. I want to make it a reality for you. Please, Carl," he woefully pleaded as tears rolled down his face and clung to his eyelashes. "Let me show you. Plea—please, son, don't die."
Tears stinging at her eyes as well, Georgie was letting own grief settle into her heart as she watched the way Rick hung his head. It was like a tightening in her chest, almost as if she couldn't breathe. Parting her lips as if she was going to emit a deep sob, she forced herself to looked down into her lap, so she never saw Rick abruptly look up at his son with a flash of hope in his eyes when Carl's fingers gently gripped onto Rick's hand.
"Carl?" he muttered. "Can you hear me?"
As Georgie lifted her head back up, Denise stepped into the room with her arms folded across her chest. Rick looked over at the young doctor and sat up straight in his chair.
"He grabbed my hand," he informed.
Denise nodded. "He suffered a severe head and ocular trauma. His subconscious is what's responding to you right now. It's too soon for him to be coming out of this, but it's definitely a good sign that he's on the road to recovery."
"Thank you, Denise, for everything you did last night. You saved Carl. You saved my son."
"That's what I'm here for," she shrugged, moving over to the other side of the bed and placing a hand upon Carl's forehead to check if he was feverish or not.
Rick locked eyes with Denise and nodded in Georgie's direction. "Thank you for taking care of her, too."
Denise looked over her shoulder back at Georgie, who promptly turned away to avoid eye contact. She was feeling too many emotions now and hated to have onlookers.
"Like I said," the doctor remarked, "that's what I'm here for." Turning back to Carl she flashed the tiniest of smiles. "He'll be okay here, Rick. He's not going anywhere. If there are any changes in his condition, I'll send for you, but you need to get some rest. Both of you," she directed toward Rick and Georgie. "You have a little girl that needs you to be strong right now."
Rick hesitated, sitting back in his chair but not letting go of Carl's hand. He did, however, crane his head to glimpse Michonne in the doorway, still holding Judith; giving her a nod of thanks and receiving a nod in return.
"I mean it, Rick. Go home, take a shower, get some sleep," Denise pressed. Then, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb, she added, "And take her with you."
Catching Denise's firm, knowing eye, Rick nodded obediently.
As she removed herself from the room, Rick stood up and leaned over Carl, pressing his lips upon his son's forehead and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you, Carl. Just keep holding on," he whispered. "Don't leave me."
Leaning back up, he slowly released his grip from Carl's hand and tiredly stepped away from the bed over to Georgie. Crouching down to her level, he placed his hands on her upper arms and waited until she looked him in the eye.
"He's gonna live?" she asked, her mouth dry and her eyes bloodshot.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, I think so." His eyes held hers and the pain she was feeling echoed deep inside him, too. He was too aware of how raw she was feeling at the moment. What they'd witnessed and experienced the night before, what she'd had to do to her own son…it wasn't something you just walked away from and got over. "I haven't had the chance to just talk to you about what happened yet. I—I'm so sorry, Georgie. I'm so sorry…I'm sorry."
"Just…just stop. Okay? You're not at fault so stop apologizing."
"I know…I just…I'm just sorry. I'm sorry for you."
Georgie shook her head and looked toward the window. "I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity," he insisted. "It's empathy." As he moved his hands from her arms up to the sides of her face, he urged her to look at him. "What happened shouldn't have happened and I wish like hell I could change it all. I wish I would've backed your idea of having Gabriel take Tristan with him to the church."
"Then maybe he would've tried to shoot and kill Gabriel or Judith instead," Georgie countered, her eyes reaching up to his again. "I'm his mother—was his mother—and I let him continue with us. I believed he would be okay and I was wrong. There are…there are certain people who are just not made to exist in this kind of world and Tristan was one of them. And I shot him. I shot my son, and killed him." Licking her chapped lips, Georgie stared at Rick as if she were looking right through him; she was falling into such a daze. "Killers are monsters. That's what he said."
"He was a confused boy."
"I killed my own child. Again."
"You had to. What was happening to him," he remarked, choosing not to say that her son was getting eaten alive, "you made it quick. It was mercy."
"It was murder."
"No," Rick insisted. "It was mercy. You stopped him from suffering. That's not murder."
Georgie fell silent and tipped her head forward. Rick responded by leaning forward as well and placed his lips on her forehead. When he felt her body starting to shake from the sobs that had begun to arrive, he dropped his hands back down to her upper arms and pulled her up to her feet with him and then snaked his arms around her waist. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he leaned his head against hers and rubbed her back.
"I left his body in the road to be eaten," Georgie blurted mid sob. "There's probably nothing left of him."
A sharp pain of regret stabbed at Rick's heart as he felt Georgie grab tightly onto him, digging her fingers into his back. "I'll have someone get him. It shouldn't be you," he commented, adamantly. "We'll give him a proper burial. Okay?"
Georgie nodded; her face against his.
When she didn't respond right away, Rick leaned back and stared at her until she looked him in the eye.
"Okay?" he repeated, needing to know she understood.
"Okay," she answered, nodding again.
Rick lifted his hands once more and brushed her thick, ginger locks off her face and over her shoulders as he studied the look in her eye. When she cast her gaze down, he turned their bodies somewhat and he cast his own gaze over to his still-unconscious son.
Without another word, he slowly pulled Georgie out of the room. Michonne had since made herself sparse as not to eavesdrop on the couple's conversation, and she was still holding onto Judith. When Rick and Georgie moved by the infirmary's kitchen island, Michonne offered the baby girl to her father, who eagerly took her into his arms. Silently thanking the other woman for everything she'd done, he turned his body to face his lover who was standing there in front of him with a blank expression.
"Georgie," he whispered.
When she brought her attention back to him, she saw he was trying to hand Judith to her and she understood he was doing it so she had something to focus her energies onto beside her grief. Catching his eye, Georgie nodded and accepted the child into her arms. Wrapping the girl protectively in her embrace, Georgie kissed her cheeks and her forehead and just reveled in her warmth. Judith seemed to sense something was wrong, and leaned into her surrogate mother, reaching up to play with her hair.
As he nodded at a few of the others inside the infirmary, Rick opened the door and led his two girls outside into the early morning light. Those gathered on the small porch gave the couple a wide berth as well as solemn looks of condolence for Georgie's loss and Carl's precarious condition.
Stepping down from the porch, Rick and Georgie turned left, stepping in between the bodies scattered across the street in pools of blood and through the dissipating smoke in the air. Shifting Judith to her right hip, Georgie gave the girl her left index finger to readily grab onto and found a considerable amount of comfort in the way Rick extended his arm across her back to rest his hand on her hip opposite from him so he could pull her closer against his side as they wandered around the corpses.
Avoiding a looked down toward the lower road where Tristan's body had been left behind the night before, the trio continued up the road to the main house in silence as the sun began to rise high enough into the sky to shine down upon them.
Such bright warmth around them when they felt so dark and miserable inside?
What cruel mockery.