Notes: Second Chappie for todays update (since they're short one's I'm giving you two!)

Huge thanks to everyone for the reads/reviews/follows/and fave's!

Chapter Six

(Fin's POV)

The burst of static from my left drags my attention away from the medical textbook in my lap.

The walkie talkie on Carl's bedside table bursting to life once more…this is the fourth time in as many nights she's tried to reach us. I stare at the small plastic box while she whispers my name, begs me to answer her.

Each night I expect to hear someone else's voice instead of hers; but she's either the only one still hoping I'm alive: or she's hasn't told them she's trying to reach us at all.

Maybe no one remembers Carl was carrying a Walkie that day…mine is long gone; probably still laying on that rusted out camper's roof on the highway; I don't even remember dropping it… I just know I no longer have it.

"Fin? Fin, please…"

If I don't answer back soon she's going to give up; she can't keep this up forever and maybe that's for the best. Cut all ties to the past; for me and Carl.

I sit listening to the steady beep of Carl's heart; trying to tune out her whispered plea for me to answer, ignore it staring at the bold black text of the book in my lap. One of my heels twitches with an apparent mind of its own listening to the little girl plea with me.

My leg tapping a nervous rhythm against the edge of the metal bed frame where my feet are both propped on Carl's mattress supporting the weight of the book against my thighs.

I try to focus on the medical textbook for blood borne pathogens I dragged up here form the small medical library on site; hoping to understand what the unknown chemical is in our bloodstream. So far no luck.

"Fin…please answer me…"

Tap, tap, tap…

"You have to be there…please…"

Tap, tap, tap…

"Fin, please; everyone is so upset…Rick and Daryl are barely speaking to anyone…Daryl yelled at Beth last night and this morning and Carol tried to talk to him…"

Tap,tap,tap,taptaptaptaptap…

I jerk my hand out and press it to my knee; stop my whole leg from shaking before I can rattle the whole bed frame. I sit perfectly still closing my eyes and drawing in a deep slow breath.

I should just get up; turn the damn thing off: I don't need to know this.

I don't want to hear this.

It doesn't change anything…

There's a raspy broken breathe before she whispers again. "Fin…I kept your secret, I didn't tell…" Tears.

Shit.

My feet slide off the mattress onto the floor as I hoist myself up from the armchair textbook in one hand. I take the two steps towards the night stand, set the heavy text against the fake lacquered wood grain staring down at the little flashing green light.

It's that roadway at the tail end of fall a year ago all over again.

When a chance encounter with a scrawny dark haired kid changed my life for the better.

I can feel it deep in my gut…drawing me out…pulling me in…that tug to act; to expose myself to help someone…

My fingers close over the cool black plastic still sitting on the wood. I close my eyes breathing slowly in and then out praying silently for strength though whether I'll use it to pick the walkie up or turn it off I'm not sure.

When she speaks again nearly dissolving into rasping soft cries I can't pull words from I can't take it anymore. I pick the walkie up and press the button; feel the static burst like an electric charge across my skin; prickling the hairs on the back of my neck with the risk I'm taking.

"I'm here Mika, don't cry…it's gonna be okay I promise, everything is going to be alright."

I guess I've added lying to children to my growing list of sins.

:: Walking Dead ::

I pull the car up to access drive still hidden from view by the thick patch of trees between me and the warehouse on the far end of the lot.

I killed the headlights long before I turned down the road, but the serviceable vehicle I stole is one of those newer models with the little yellow running lights on the front and sides. The kind that run the entire time the car is turned on regardless of whether or not you're trying to pass unnoticed because you'd like to avoid getting shot.

I climb out of the vehicle, closing my door as quietly as possible. Sounds always seem to carry farther in the dead of night. It's almost as if the darkness amplifies the sound, broadcasts it for all the little ears of prey and predator alike to hear.

The roadway is silent beyond the soft fall of my soles on the hardtop.

I accidently catch a small bit of loose gravel with my toe wince when a quarter sized rock goes skittering over the road's surface with a small clack, clack as it rolls tumbling away into the soft grass now lost in the darkness.

I freeze listening to the sound of my heavy breathing in the night air wondering if this heart pounding rush of fear is what normal people feel in the darkness; worried that every little sound will draw them like moths to a flame before shaking my head and opening the rear door of the car. Reminding myself to get a grip.

It wasn't that loud. It's just my perception, my nerves at being back here; worried I'll be caught and not make it back to Carl in time… he can't wake up and find me gone still intubated and tied down; that would be horrifying for him. I have to make it back.

I shift the pack on to one shoulder, quietly close the back door and move down the roadway's edge tracing the yellow line around the drive and up the tree line eyes pressing into the darkness; searching for light or movement any sign that someone is on watch tonight atop the giant warehouse roof.

The rim of half-wall out lining its edge stands against the black sky from this distance—manly visible for the way it blots out the stars before being lost into the darkness of the surrounding trees it's base and the majority of the lot no more than a vague impression in the pitch dark under the lack of moonlight.

I pause halfway across the lot, waiting. My fingers clenched tightly enough around the thick padded strap against my shoulder that they start to ache while I resist the urge to turn and run my heart pounding so hard it makes me sway just slightly where I stand. If I don't do this tonight I won't get another opportunity for a long while.

They deserve some kind of explanation. Especially him.

And seeing as I can hardly do this face to face without risking my life; and Carl's if I don't return to take care of him this will have to do.

It feels cowardly and dangerous at the same time, twists the knots in my stomach a little tighter. Maybe I'll breathe easier once it's finally done.

I'm lying to myself even as I think it; I've had this scenario play out too many times since the beginning to think that anything but time—a lot of it; will calm the knots behind my ribs; dull the throbbing ache in my chest that's never roared quite this viciously before…losing him is worse than anything I could have ever imagined.

It's damn near crippling.

It feels like someone has replaced my lungs with a balloon; filled it with too much air; I can't exhale to relieve the pressure; and inhaling only expands it further presses the ache around my heart 'til it's too much to bear.

Nothing moves in the darkness that I can see so I continue forward, crouched low even though it will be movement and not height that gives me away if I'm seen. I reach the vehicle I intend to use, swing my bag around to my side so I can open the pocket watching the roofline again in the darkness. I pull the small cylindered shape from inside by feel and pop the cap off into my palm trying to muffle even this small sound with my skin. I shake it carefully press the felted end to the window and begin to write, trying not to press to hard; make the letters drip.

It takes me maybe a half a minute to scrawl my simple message to draw their attention. Make them look for the note in the first place so they don't miss it. I press the cap back onto the shoe polish slip it back into the front pocket of my bag and grab the letter in my fist. I move to the front of the vehicle and lift the front wiper trapping the folded paper under its heavy weight making sure it's pinched tight against the glass—can't blow away.

Then I quickly move back across the lot, not breathing easier until I'm back under the cover of the tall pines on the far side of the lot once more, hidden against their trunks in the space around me truly dark under their heavy wide spreading branches. I cross through them carefully inspecting the trunks in the dark until I find the well faded strip of surveyors tape tied around the right trunk.

I drop my bag to the ground, shifting the contents around with my hand in the dark until I find what I need. I pull the harness out strap it over my waist and around my thighs pulling it snug and tight before reaching back inside my bag finding the toe spikes I need to scale the trunk. I shimmy up the tree about twenty feet in the darkness moving carefully and slow, adjusting the loop around the trunk I'm bracing my weight against every few feet extra cautions in the darkness.

I hate that I can barely see what I'm doing; but I can't risk trying this during the day when even with the branches for cover someone might still see me. It takes me nearly fifteen minutes and I'm slightly winded by the time I reach the branch where the bug out bag is secured with rope.

I pull the pack open carefully retrieving the long coil of rope inside and dropping it towards the ground releasing the clamp lock so I can lower it back to the ground once I'm down myself. It takes me just as long to work my way back to solid ground; my muscles are shaking when I take the last short leap to the ground.

I need to eat more, now that Carl is stable enough for me to leave for short periods of time I can find food, or hunt. I quickly lower the heavy pack to the ground; it's got everything I need to make a quick run for it.

I should probably come back another night and retrieve the other two bags scattered around the nearest half mile of the warehouse. Hide them around the hospital instead, just in case. I prepared and hid them a long time ago just in case I ever had to leave in a hurry; I've lived through starting from scratch one too many times not to always have a back-up plan…and a back-up-plan to my back-up-plan.

I heft the heavy pack onto my back using both straps to secure its weight, and carry my nearly empty pack in my hand back to the car. I have to get back to Carl.

:: Walking Dead ::