skittletitz - I do enjoy when the Lt. bitches...he doesn't do it often, but when he does...he's whiny as all hell. ^_^
sammipoop - Aw, that's probably the greatest compliment a person can get. That their work is better than the actual show they're stealing characters and ideas from...ah, fanfiction...thanks for the kind compliment!
spygrrl99 - Yeah, my grandma used to spank us with a wooden spoon (can't call child services, she's dead! mwahaha) but I actually think we deserved a lot of those spankings. Anyways...enough about me...(random TMI for you all). Wooden spoons do indeed hurt, was the point of that...thanks for the review.
Supfan - I can't wait to write more. Seriously, I have like four chapters waiting to be updated and I just want to update them all...but then I might spoil you kids too much.
Brazen Hussy - I'm terribly sorry to hear one act of violence under a lot of stress put you off the Mother Superior. But hypocrites of any kind are never pleasant are they? Thanks for the review!
Lilone1776 - I do spoil you kids, don't I? I expected presents. (I keed!) XD Thanks for the review!
AFishNamedSushi - Yeah, I should get around to explaining the tattoo at some point...Merle is a tough talker, no doubt, whether he'd actually do it. I can't honestly see that happening, he's basically a big coward under all that tough talk.
Surplus Imagination - Haha! The colour is what's pissing the Old Missy off, huh? Hmmm...? You may be on to something. I'm actually shocked no one's asked me why she hung onto the lingerie in the first place, when she could have just thrown it out immediately after talking with the Cajun that night.
A True Dreamer - Me too! Let's hope it goes well for everyone.
GG - Oh, I hate when a ship sinks. But it'll live on forever in your mind and that's all that matters. This chapter has very little (yet some Caryl) but if you can wait for...two or three chapters there's a lovely, Caryl-centric chapter coming up! ^_^
MollyMayhem84 - I was thinking of taking a hiatus but I'm not an ass. XD Wouldn't that have been evil, though? Mwaha!
Axelrocks - You ever notice the men aren't nearly shirtless enough on TWD? The only man that strutted around all shirtless and stuff was Shane and he was a dick, so...needs more shirtless men, I say! Wait...where was I going with this? Doesn't matter...
JackAndHoney - Oh gosh, you seriously made my day. Thank you for your review. TWD reviewers are among some of the kindest I've met on this site. You people are all class acts, really. There's no horrible flaming, no hate, just love. ^_^ Thanks, your words really do keep me inspired and keep me writing. So basically, the reviewers are the ones who keep the updates coming steadily. You should all thank yourselves for being good and decent human beings.
LampPostInWinter - Ack! Wouldn't want to cause your death! Here! Update! Live! LIVE!
Peta2 - Carol seems good at anticipating doom. Seems whenever she begins to feel comfortable she calls doom and it comes down like the four horsemen. Thanks for the review! ^_^
HGRHFan35 - Things are going to get dirty and bloody and walkers...ack! Thanks for this review and the others, they are as freshly baked chocolate chip cookies to my soul...damn, now I want a cookie.
TheDarkEmpress - Aw, again that was the kind of thing that makes me feel so good and keeps me writing instead of 'sploding things on Fallout. So thank you for that review. I am so happy right now.
I just want to say if a ZA ever does happen, I hope I end up in a group with my reviewers, because you people would never execute me in a barn. Right? Right? Guys?
Chapter Thirty-Four: Rejoindre
**Daryl**
It had taken them damned near all day just to find a way to get into the locked cells.
Glenn had scouted half the yard by the shops looking for the keys Carl said he must have dropped in the fracas, and by the time they got in to their supplies the sun was setting, so they made camp in the prison for the night.
Hell, the actual loading of the supplies only took about two hours, but he supposed it was better than having to slog his way through walkers. Daryl would rather waste a day looking for keys then being chomped at.
Turning down the cattle trail to the convent, he had to admit he was eager to get back. Not just because he wanted to keep an eye on his brother, not just because he had to admit he was beginning to like the place itself, but because he wanted to get some of the spare formula they found to Judith. To maybe return that makeshift crib he found for the baby to her, the one Carol had written 'Lil' Ass Kicker' on because she thought it a good nickname for the baby.
Maybe a small part of him wanted to just make sure both Judith and Carol were okay. That everything was the same old on the convent grounds.
Cresting the hill that would open up with a view of the front gate and the convent wall, with the towering bell tower behind, Daryl slammed on the brakes, not at all thinking of the truck following them, but thinking of the massive herd of walkers that came into view before him.
Putting the truck in reverse, he glanced behind and found the other truck in his way, trapping him between walkers and it on the narrow path.
The ugly bastards were already on them, so Daryl slammed on the gas and turned the truck hard, putting her in the thin strip of ditch that lined the road, but giving him enough room to turn.
The other truck was already doing the same, as him moving away from the herd gave them a view of what they were about to drive into.
Walkers slammed on the hood and rapped hungrily at the window, as Daryl managed to take a few out getting the truck turned around.
Both trucks tore off back down the road the way they came, leaving walkers in the dust.
Glancing in the rear view, he spied a few of the more tenacious bastard ambling after them, but for the most part they got away.
He just wondered if those they left at the convent were as lucky.
Stopping the trucks at a safe distance from the herd, Daryl hopped out and headed for the one Rick was driving, crossbow in hand.
The others were convening as well.
"Did anyone see if they got inside the walls?" Glenn asked first thing.
"I didn't see anything but walkers," Daryl supplied. "Haven't seen a herd that big since the farm."
"They must have been gathering for a while somewhere…or I dunno…what do we do?" Maggie asked.
Rick seemed deep in thought.
Sensing the man wasn't about to make a fast enough decision, Daryl nodded. "I'll tell you what I'm doing, clearing me a path in. Check on our people. They might need us."
"They might be dead already," the man from Tyreese's group supplied.
"Won't know until we get in there, hoss." Daryl stated, moving back towards his truck.
"Daryl, wait!" Rick called after him. "Let's approach this with a level head."
"Level head nothing," Daryl growled. "Where the hell has your head been the past week? Up your ass, that's where!"
"What are you talking about?" Rick demanded, climbing out of his truck.
"I'm talking about you staring off into the distance," Daryl stated. "Not getting any sleep, pacing like a caged animal!"
"Guys," Glenn interrupted. "Kind of in the middle of a herd of hungry walkers, can we not do this now?"
"Man, we joined up with the wrong people," Tyreese added. "You guys are insane."
"Daryl, I'm working some things out, okay?" Rick snapped.
"Yeah, meanwhile your group is going to hell in a hand basket! We need you here with us, not chasing goddamned butterflies!"
"No, seriously, can we not fight here and now?" Maggie demanded.
Working a crick out of his neck, Rick sighed. "Okay, what we need is a plan. They can't be entirely surrounded. There has to be an opening around the wall, if we can get close we can hop it…figure things out from there."
"What if the walkers are inside?" Glenn asked. "We hop the fence into a piranha tank."
Racking his brain for some way to get in at those who might be inside the convent walls, Daryl looked around hoping to be inspired by something anything.
Spying an old tin of chaw in the ditch nearby, he frowned.
"I think I have an idea. It might not take them all out, but it'll thin the herd some." Daryl stated.
..-~-..
..-~-..
They drove in one truck as close as they dared to the herd up the road, moving slowly, edging in until they were a good distance in, before Daryl hopped out of the back of the truck.
Tyreese hopped out behind him pop bottle of siphoned gasoline in hand, watching his back as the two made their way alone up the road, keeping low in the ditch to avoid being spotted early. It didn't mean the walkers wouldn't sniff them out, but it gave them a better chance of getting close enough.
Seeing a good size tree that seemed right for the job, Daryl scrambled up it, moving high enough to see the road.
Tyreese nodded up at him and moving out from his position placed the bottle of gas on the road.
If it wasn't for the rain soaking the earth the night before Daryl would have never considered the idea, too risky with all the woods surrounding the convent, but everything was still soaked from the rain, so he had a good chance of keeping the fire limited to the walkers.
Nodding to Tyreese that the position was visible for him in the tree, Daryl waited for the man to hurry back down the road for the truck.
Sighting the herd through the scope on his crossbow, he lined up the shot for the bottle, before scooting out further on the branch he was on.
Wrapping the strap of his crossbow on a nearby branch, he reached for the rag in his back pocket and Salt at his side.
Tearing the rag into four pieces, he shoved two of them into his pocket and tucked the other two between his teeth, using the knife to slice open his hand.
He absolutely soaked the rags with his blood, tying one to a bolt and wriggling in the tree in order to get the bolt in place enough to fire it. It didn't want to stick in the slot due to the rag, so he had to rethink quickly.
Carefully, he draped the blood soaked rag piece over the end of his cocked crossbow, not sure if it would work, but willing to try.
Taking aim, he caressed the trigger and sent the bolt zipping out of the run, it went right through the rag, but the fletching caught it and took the rag soaked in blood across the distance and stuck it into the nearest walker's head.
It didn't take long for the other walker's to catch the scent of fresh blood and a good chunk of them moved towards the fallen walker, falling upon it in search for the source.
They were close, but not close enough to the bottle.
Draping the second blood soaked rag over the end of his crossbow, he let another bolt fly, sticking it in the head of the walker who was now closer to the bottle.
Again, the walker's caught the scent of fresh blood and fell upon the latest victim, but a majority of them were still not close enough to the bottle.
Struggling to keep a grip on the slippery wet branch he was perched on, Daryl wiped at his forehead with his bloody hand, before reaching for another piece of the rag. It left him with only one and if push came to shove pieces of his shirt, to light the bottle with, so he had to get lucky at some point.
He wiped the rest of his already clotting blood on the piece of rag and repeated the process, bringing at least a few of the walker's close enough to the bottle to decide it was safe.
Carefully he signaled to the truck that he was ready.
Placing the last piece of rag on the end of his crossbow, he lit it with a slightly shaking hand. He only had one shot to get it right, it put a little pressure on him.
Waiting until the rag was on fire enough that he was convinced the flame would survive the journey, he raised his hand and signaled again.
In the truck Rick hit the horn repeatedly, catching the attention of the walker's. They rose from inspecting the third rag victim and began towards the sound.
Just as the first walker crossed over the bottle, Daryl let his bolt fly.
It slipped through the bottle, spraying gasoline and fire everywhere, catching the first few walker's on fire.
The fire traveled fast to every walker that was doused with the gasoline and soon the group tearing after the truck was alight.
Daryl watched as a steady stream of walker's tore after the truck as it backed up quickly down the road, leading the fire away from the convent.
It wasn't all the walker's but it was a good enough portion, as the ones who were the first to catch fire dropped where they stood, the others who bumped and stumbled over their corpses caught flame as well, until soon more of them were on fire, still chasing after the truck.
Keeping a nervous eye out for any walkers that may have seen him, he found that most of them seemed too interested in the moving, honking thing, racing as quickly as they could shuffling in a group one after another.
When the walker's ambling down the road slowed and then eventually stopped altogether, Daryl took one last cautious look around, before making his way out of the tree.
Landing in the ground again, he reloaded his crossbow and keeping it trained on the world around him, started off towards the convent slowly, moving through the woods.
He took down a few walkers on his way towards the wall, but it seemed like he had thinned the herd nicely with that trick on the road. Hopping onto the wall, he perched there for a moment, eyeing the grounds before him.
A strange chill ran up his spine at the sight of what seemed like hundreds of walker bodies littered across the grounds, with a few stragglers ambling around, tripping over corpses, trashing the place. Even as he watched, the doors to the church opened and a stream of survivors tore out, weapons in hand to finish off the stragglers.
Daryl spied Merle and nodded to him. Hopping down inside the wall, he moved to join his brother, taking out a walker or two on the way.
"Hey, baby brother. Long night, huh?" Merle greeted, cramming his blade up under a walker's chin and twisting.
"What happened?"
Merle gave him a look that was clearly mocking Daryl's intelligence to ask that question.
Eyeing the others who were working just as fast to take down the walkers, Daryl did a head count, Michonne, Sister Joan, the Lieutenant, and Father O'Rourke.
"Where is everyone?"
"Don't worry," Merle replied, kicking a walker in the chest to knock it down, before finishing it. "Your woman is fine, she's in the infirmary keeping an eye on Andrea. Making sure nothing gets in while we aren't looking. Thanks for taking care of those biters outside the wall, that Cajun bunged up the back gate with bodies, but we still didn't want to risk coming out of our hidey holes without knowing for sure that a vast majority was gone." Wiping his brow, smearing the blood that was already there, Merle grinned. "Good thing that Cajun stocked up on the .22 ammo, huh? Been firing damned near all night. Should have seen that bell tower up there, it was beautiful."
"Well, when he makes a shot he makes it count." Daryl replied. "Anyone taken?"
"Naw, we hid pretty good. Them biter assholes trampled the hell out of the garden though, learned some new words from that pretty head nun as we were watching when they were doing it and none of them are fit for Christian ears."
"From a nun?" Daryl demanded. "She must be pissed. I'm going to check on the infirmary."
"Sure you are." Merle replied with a smirked. "Say 'hi' to Carol for me."
"Shut up and get the gate for Rick, they should be driving up any second."
"Hey, you be careful, some of the doors on these buildings are open, could be assholes lurking."
Daryl nodded.
Taking out a walker on his way to the infirmary, he passed by the Mother Superior and nodded grimly at her as she used a garden hoe to take down a another walker. She brushed her hair off her forehead with a bloody hand and returned the grim nod.
At the heavily barricaded door, he knocked loudly and waited.
The first face he saw when the door was carefully opened was the one he wanted to see – something he didn't know until that moment.
Carol beamed at him, that wide, child-like grin of hers that wrinkled the bridge of her nose and crinkled her eyes. There was blood splattered up her face in a speckled streak, but she looked otherwise untouched. "You missed all the action," she stated wryly, motioning him inside.
Stepping into the infirmary, he looked about and settled his crossbow on his back calmly, not at all thinking of tensing when Carol gave him a simple, but sweet hug. He returned it absently, eyeing the broken window and the two cots that had been slammed against it, a couple of walkers lay on the floor beneath, another jammed between the cots and the window sill. It looked like the ugly assholes got close, but were cut off from a quick meal by clever thinking. Still, they had been too close.
Carol tapped him playfully on the back. "Can't breathe."
Realizing that he had her in a vice grip style hug, Daryl released her quickly and stepped back sheepishly, eyeing everything but her.
"Everyone's fine, shaken up, but…hell of a thing though, those walkers," she explained. "I think we got lucky."
Daryl squinted at the way Carol seemed to just grin and bear the convent getting over run so badly, the woman was a little steam engine that never quit. He had to give her that.
"Small blessings," Carol added, reaching down to touch Carl's shoulder.
The young man looked exhausted, but still managed a nod at Daryl.
The door opened then and Beth scurried in quickly, Judith in her arms securely. She must have made a dash from where she was holed up. Carl moved to the door to ensure she wasn't being chased, before closing and securing it again.
In Beth's arm's Judith kicked and squirmed, croaking angrily.
"Judith is getting fussy," Beth explained to Carol. "I can't make a run to the dorms for formula. They're still uncleared."
"I'll do it," Daryl offered. "I'm already coated in walker gack anyways, may as well make the run."
Lingering at the doorway, he eyed the walkers on the floor and Carol who was taking Judith from Beth with loving coo's.
He was getting a little sick of these close calls with walkers.
Outside he passed the Cajun by the peach tree who was stooped over a particular corpse, one knee on the ground.
Daryl clapped him on the shoulder. "You alright?"
The man looked up at him with bewildered grey eyes. "I'm sorry about all this, cabri."
"Walkers happen. We'll just clean them up and move on."
"Feel like I should have fortified this place better, could have…could have done better. Should have replaced that back gate..."
Wincing, Daryl took a knee beside the Cajun, stooping over what looked like the corpse of a soldier. "Hey, you start thinking like that. Taking it on your own shoulders to protect the world and you're going to go as nutty as Rick. Walkers happen. They smell the living and they just appear."
The Cajun flinched, tucking a dog tag into his pocket. "I still feel like I didn't do enough."
"Look at these grounds," Daryl snarled, "I bet a good eighty percent of these walkers have a .22 round in their head. That's you. You took them down protecting our people." Standing up, Daryl pulled his cross bow off his back. "Now, come on, I'm heading to the kitchen for some formula, need someone at my back."
The Cajun stood up. "Yeah, I've got your back."
The Cajun Dialect
Rejoindre – To meet; to join up with.