I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters.
She hears crying. She can't tell which direction it's coming from. It's familiar crying, though she has never heard it as desperate as it sounds now, and she feels tears streaming down her cheeks though she doesn't even notice that they are there. She must find the source of the crying. Before it's too late.
And then suddenly it is too late. The crying escalates until it becomes a wail and then a skriek that is joined by a second familiar voice. It goes on for several seconds as she speeds up until she thinks the muscles in her legs are going to burst. And then all of a sudden the voices are abruptly cut off with a muffled choke that she can barely hear, as though someone muted a television. Everything goes silent.
The woods are so silent.
He marches her back to the camp, his crossbow trained on her back like she is some sort of dangerous criminal. She is furious. She has done nothing but draw her sword to protect herself. He shot down her walkers, her property, and now he has his damned greasy hands all over her sword. If anyone is a danger here, it is him. In the back of her mind she can't help but acknowledge that she herself probably would have done the same had she found herself in his shoes, but her temper has always taken hold of her sane mind and this instance is no exception.
And he is marching her around like she is his prisoner. She is not his prisoner nor his property. She has never been that to anyone in her life. Not her boyfriend, not her children (though they come the closest to being able to claim the title and it makes her heart hurt again), and certainly not this strange man who has changed her life in the blink of an eye. She realizes that she still has her hands up and more for the sake of dignity than anything else she drops them slowly. It's bad enough that she is being taken into the camp with a crossbow at her back. She doesn't want these people's first image of her to be with her hands in the air. As though she herself is acknowledging that she has done something wrong.
But she feels the point of the arrow jab her in the back again and she hisses.
"I want to see your hands," he commands, jabbing her again. She can feel her pulse speed up as she sees red, but she lifts her hands anyway. She hates the idea of being at anyone's mercy.
She knows where they are going, but she is almost sure that he doesn't know she knows. She has kept her distance from the camp, not wanting them to know she was there for exactly this reason. She has been so careful only to get closer when she knows it is safe and she won't be discovered. But she hadn't accounted for this random hillbilly with a crossbow out lurking in the woods.
He is muttering under his breath, and what she can catch of what he is saying is none too kind to either her race or her sex. She is beginning to think that she may end up taking an arrow after all if this continues. Once her temper takes control she has a hard time being reasonable about anything, and this man is definitely not being reasonable in the slightest. (She still has to quiet that inner voice that tells her she would do the same thing, or worse, if she were in his shoes.)
However, before either of them lose any important body parts they emerge into a clearing and the hillbilly is yelling for someone named Shane.
If there is anything she hates more than being treated like a prisoner, it's being interrogated. She finds the endless questions pointless and none of the outside party's business. Which is why for the past twenty or so minutes she has been sitting there silent as the former cop (whose name she now knows is Shane) gets more and more irritated at her unwillingness to speak.
She knows this must be infuriating, especially to someone who used to do this as a living. But at the moment she couldn't possibly care less. How will it help him any to know her name, where she came from, what she was doing so close to the camp? How will it help him any when all she wants is for them to let her go so she can finish living out this half life in her own way?
She watches as he sighs is frustration and runs a hand through his thick dark hair. He really is an attractive man, even if his ears are too big. As angry as she still is, she has to hold back a smirk at the thought. It's tempting, mostly because she knows it would aggrivate him even more. She isn't sure when the idea of irritating her captors became a good one, but she mentally shakes herself to get the thought out of her head. She needs to focus. She needs to get out of here.
Suddenly, the sound of a car alarm approaches. Everyone's heads turn, and the older man who has been keeping watch all this time pulls out a pair of binoculars. When the sound gets closer instead of fading like they were all hoping, Shane sighs and repeats the motion again, his hair now standing slightly on end. He looks at her hard. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he is trying to figure out what to do with her. She stares him down with the same intensity, unwavering and unblinking. She knows she isn't doing anything to help her case, but since when has she been entirely logical in a situation like this?
Not that she has been in many situations like this.
Before she has the time to even think he has removed his handcuffs from his belt and looped one end around her wrist and the other around the pole that supports the awning on the RV. She opens her mouth to finally say something (or shout something, more like), but he has already gone to stand with the others and watch the approach of the bright red sports car.
From her place on the ground by the RV, she has a limited view of what is going on. But even with her small range of sight she can tell that the other half of the group has finally returned. She hears a lot of very happy voices, and can see more as they approach the RV.
The first person she sees is a blonde woman who runs into the embrace of the younger girl. So this must be the older sister that was so worried over. She can't really see much of her features; her face is buried in her sister's shoulder. They have a similar frame though, so this must be the sister.
She also sees the husband and father of the woman with the two children. She watches them embrace and looks away when she sees the children leap into his arms. It's still too soon for her. Far too soon.
Instead she looks at the mother and son who lost the man when this whole thing started. The mother has pulled her son to the side and she watches as she tries to console him. She knows that there is no use even trying, though her own maternal instinct is still strong enough that she knows she too would try had she been in this woman's shoes. Once a child has seen as much as this boy has surely seen there is no consoling them. She has come to find that children have memories like bear traps and hearts that are almost impossible to harden.
But she finds that she eats her words when the boy's head turns, having caught sight of a familiar form out of the corner of his eye. She watches his face change quickly from dispair to shock and disbelief to utter joy. He shouts for his father and takes off running, hitting one of the men who emerged from the truck at full force. They sink to the ground in a cloud of dust and tears and she suddenly realizes that a few tears of her own have made their appearance. It seems that today is determined to put her through the emotional wringer.
No one is looking at her, so she dries her eyes on the hem of her tank and settles instead for looking at the ground. She stays that way for a long time, and when she finally looks back up the group has gone their separate ways to catch up and tend to their returned soldiers.
She has been left in the dirt, alone.
After a while the campsite gets busy again as the group emerges to begin preparing for dinner. Food has been scarce since the world went to hell, but this little group of survivors seems to be doing pretty well for itself. She noted that as she watched them from the cover of the trees.
The sun has shifted now and the awning does nothing to shade her from the fierce glare. She began sweating ages ago, and she can feel herself dehydrating. She has thought several times about calling out to the surivors to remind them that she is still here. She doesn't think that they would be cruel enough to leave her purposefully, but in the euphoria of their reunion they seem to have forgotten her presence. And the returning group has been so distracted that she doubts they have even seen her.
However her pride has not allowed her to call out, and she soon hears a discussion being had around the corner that tells her that have not quite forgotten about her.
"What should we do with her?" she recognises the voice as Shane's. He is the only surivor whose name she knows, and she clings to that knowledge as a connection to humanity, though she won't admit it to herself.
"Well, we can't just leave her there," comes another voice. She recognises this voice too, but she can't place a face with it. It's another man.
"No, of course not. But we can't trust her either. You heard what Daryl said. She was lurking around out there with walkers on leashes and a damned samurai sword," Shane's voice again. It makes her bristle with anger, hearing him talk about her like this. Daryl must be the man with the crossbow. He has made her sound like a threat, and she almost allows a growl to leave her throat. But she is distracted by another voice—a new one.
"Are you meaning to tell me you've just left her like that all day?" The new voice is a woman's, and she sounds angry herself.
"What else did you expect us to do?" Shane's voice again, sounding exasperated. He talks down to her as he would a child.
"Has she at least had some food and water?" comes the woman's voice again. There is a silence that follows, and she can almost see Shane's guilty face in her mind's eye. She thinks that they have dropped the argument and begins entertaining the idea of calling out again when a movement catches her eye.
The older blonde sister she remembers from earlier in the afternoon appears from around the corner of the RV carrying a metal bucket and cup. When she sets it down in front of Michonne water slops over the side and seeps into her jeans.
"Sorry," the blonde says, steadying the bucket and dipping the cup into it. Michonne can tell that she is still aggitated. She offers it to her and she takes it warily. "It's not poisoned," the blonde says. She is an impatient one. Michonne lifts the cup to her mouth, not taking her eyes off the woman for a second. But the blonde gives her a small smile as she drains the cup. She takes it and refills it, passing it back to her.
"I'm sorry they left you here like this," she says, dropping her eyes to the ground. "They can be stupid when they don't know how to handle a situation." She looks up and meets Michonne's eyes over the rim of the cup. "I'm Andrea."
Michonne says nothing. She didn't answer Shane's questions and she sees no reason to give this woman anything either. Sure, she is the first person who has treated her semi-decently since she got here, but she doesn't owe her anything. They are her captors, not the other way around, and all she wants to do is leave.
The blonde sighs, refilling the cup a second time. "You should come get something to eat. With the rest of us. They have no reason to keep you here like this." She passes the cup back to Michonne. "Shane!" she yells suddenly, and if Michonne were the type to jump the water would have ended up down her front instead of in her mouth.
The former cop appears around the RV looking harried. He takes in the blonde's proximity to Michonne and sighs. "Andrea..."
"You need to let her go," her tone has a certain authority to it, but Michonne can tell that Shane is preparing to disregard it. "She needs to eat and you can't just leave her here tied up like an animal." Shane sighs again and looks like he is gearing up for an argument. Andrea ignores him and turns back to Michonne. "You aren't going to hurt anyone. Right?"
Michonne takes her in. Her mouth is set in a determined line and her brows are furrowed. She has the appearance of someone who wants to think they're tough but on the inside is actually naive. She almost gives a derisive snort at the fact that this woman is prepared to take her word for anything when she could so easily lie. But she has no reason to lie and this may be the only way she will get out of these handcuffs and find the opportunity to leave.
"I don't harm the living unless I have to," she mutters, her eyes on the ground instead of on the woman crouched in front of her. The blonde looks up at Shane expectantly as though Michonne's words are more than enough evidence of her innocence. Michonne again finds herself struggling to supress her impatience at the blonde's trusting demeanor.
Shane too looks as though he has had just about enough of this whole scene. But he sighs and pulls a key out of his pocket. He tosses it to Andrea and she catches it with ease. She gives him a sweet smile which he ignores, choosing instead to focus on Michonne.
"Pull anything," he says, and the warning in his voice is real. "And you will be right back in these cuffs." She says nothing, glaring up at him in a way she knows she shouldn't when he just gave her (possibly temporary) freedom. He walks away, presumably to join the others in preparing for dinner.
Andrea rolls her eyes at his back and leans across Michonne to unlock the cuff. Michonne's eyes widen a little at her sudden proximity. This woman is very trusting. A little too trusting in Michonne's opinion. She knows she isn't a threat, but Andrea doesn't.
When the cuffs click open she rubs her wrist. She hasn't been struggling against them, but they still have managed to make her wrist raw.
"Come get something to eat," Andrea says, looking at her with a smile. After a moment's hesitation Michonne gets up and follows her toward the rest of the group.
I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! It's twice as long as the first! Sorry if there are any mistakes. I try to proofread, but sometimes it's hard to proof your own stuff.
I'm on a bit of a roll now, and I hope to keep cranking these out quickly!
Until next time! =]