Brazen Hussy - More of that beautiful bastard in this chapter! Enjoy!
Whooptiedoo - Oh, gosh, thanks. I appreciate that you pick up on the subtleties. Thank you very much for the review!
Merle's Right Hand - Perfection? One word? What kind of a review is that? You lazy toad...(you know I love you, babes...)
peonies01 - I know. Merle had such potential as a character. Bah! BAH! I say!
itsi3 - Trying! ^_^ Thanks for the review!
Brooklyn'sRoisinDubh - I know. Daryl's 'surgery' is taking quite long, isn't it, though? Yikes.
HGRHfan35 - BBQ? Delicious! You sound like you eat like royalty...I want your life. ^_^
Surplus Imagination - I know. Merle is growing up, isn't it adorable. He's like a scruffy, drunk, mean baby becoming a toddler.
Lilone1776 - I miss Merle on the show. I really do. Bummed.
GG - She does seem like she has a lot she could teach. Maybe take an apprentice in, teach them her medical knowledge before she passes.
RainthelingeringSentiment - Oh wow, I'm flattered. You are such a kind human being. I like Italian food, btw. Just in case. ;D
Ms Q - Gosh, being that they're in a clinic I would hope things would be sterile than if they were doing this on a battlefield or something, but I do see your point about the anti-biotics.
basically-a-fangirl - Wonderful! I'm glad you enjoy this story so much! Thank you for the sweet review! I think the show could use a Cajun...but then again I think a Cajun would improve any show. ^_^
Supfan - I know! This story is a monster...cripes. If I were reading I wouldn't be able to do it. Holy hell...I need to shorten my stories more...
AFishNamedSushi - Nice to see you're healthy and still with us. ^_^ I worry about my loyal reviewers when they don't review for a while. Honestly. It's either because something horrible happened or my story started stinking (at least in my anxiety riddled little brain that's how it seems).
Axelrocks - Finals...ugh I remember those. Horrible times, mang. Hope you did well. Yes, the neck is pretty much a death sentence, there's only a very, very narrow margin where you could get stabbed and it wouldn't kill or paralyze you.
One of my reviewers said the story format with all the action was getting a wee bit confusing and I agreed, so I hope this new format is a little easier to follow.
Chapter Seventy-Nine: Gris
**Rick**
The Mall
Kicking the tiles at his feet, he lingered in the doorway to the mall, eyeing the surrounding area, all senses on alert.
The rain made seeing anything hard, but it kept the walkers confused enough that they didn't seem to be much of a problem. The sun was about to go down, he didn't like the idea of pulling this plan off in the darkness.
"Shouldn't they have been here by now?" Glenn voiced his concern from Rick's side.
The others were set up in pairs all around the surrounding area, but due to the rain he doubted their hopes to pick a few of the Woodbury men off would fly. They'd need to get everyone inside the mall, before setting it off.
"Something's not right," Rick replied.
It had been nearly two hours, Woodbury was only forty-five minutes away.
"What if they're not coming," Glenn said. "Hell, the Governor probably just killed the Lieutenant on sight."
"We don't know that. We wait until morning, then we'll think about packing it up."
"It'll be dangerous with this rain, in the dark with walkers stumbling about, confused, hungry," Glenn argued.
"We wait."
Beside him Glenn continued to shift uncomfortably.
Narrowing his eyes at the grey misty world, Rick placed his hands on his hips. He knew Glenn didn't like the situation, hell he didn't either, but he meant what he said, it ended here and now.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Shumpert**
The Highway
As they approached the mall on the highway, Shumpert eyed the man sitting in the cab of the truck at his side.
The rain outside made everything dark, made the cab seem like a mortuary and the man at his side was paler in the lack of light, the shadows under his eyes more apparent.
They were in a heavy duty, military truck stolen from that group of soldiers who were holding out on the 135 heading South, they came with a couple of crates of ammo and a kick ass rocket launcher. The very same one they used on the prison to scatter their people, it was the same one he had no doubt the Governor was planning to use on the mall.
The man was a coward, never only liked to enter a battle if he knew he was going to win, but since the prison group's continued existence was an insult to his pride, the man was heading for the mall, but he wouldn't get any closer than he had to.
Of course there were some things Shumpert would never voice out loud.
Like why were the people of Woodbury starting to starve when the men were out hunting a prison group instead of food? Or just where the hell did Martinez disappear to? And why'd Milton abandon them?
That was one of the biggest puzzlers.
Milton Mamet was damned loyal to the Governor. The man was practically a nerdy lapdog, so where'd he go and why?
It was beginning to seem to him that anyone close to the Governor were put in a place of bad luck and there was a small voice in his head that told him Philip was the source of it.
Damn fool would shoot his head off without hesitation, this he knew for sure. He'd seen it done. The man didn't like loose ends and he hated having his orders questioned.
Him and Merle Dixon were at odds a few times, but they had met on one plain of agreement and that was blood. They loved spilling it. But even Merle had his limits and it seemed his brother was it.
And of course the other men asked about Martinez, they had liked him, he was a mini version of Merle, loudmouthed, angry at the world, mean as a snake, but Martinez wasn't smart. He didn't know how to keep his damned mouth shut. Not like Shumpert.
Again he cast the man at his side a quiet look on a straight patch of highway, the patter of the rain on the roof the only sound in the cab.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Noah**
Woodbury
"Can we wake him?"
There were two others with Mr. Dixon who he had brought in. One was the lady Andrea arrived with, her name was Michelle or something, the other a grey haired lady who kind of looked like his English teacher Mrs. Thane, but prettier and less like an old spinister.
Noah, had looked to his mother, but she didn't seem worried about them.
"Are you kidding?" Mrs. Douglas inquired. "The man's in stage three hemorrhagic shock, if you wake him he's going to be weak and incoherent."
"Well, I ain't carrying his ass out, so he'd better get used to walking."
"I honestly thought you were smarter than that, Merle." The woman sniped.
Mr. Dixon ignored her, bending over the soldier to slap him on the cheek a few times. "Hey, wake up, sunshine."
The man muttered something faintly after a few more slaps.
"Was that French?" Noah asked.
"That wasn't English," Merle said. "Get your lazy coonass up," he ordered smacking the man again, hard.
The beautiful black woman caught Mr. Dixon's hand in midair as he went to slap the soldier again. "He's not getting up, Merle. Give up."
Noah's mother moved to unstrap the man, hand on his forearm. "You got to get up," she commanded. "Come on, honey. We can't carry you out."
"Grace?" The man mumbled. "Le canari a vos queue plumes."
Noah eyed the others, unsure what their plans were.
"Let's try to get some fluids into him," Mrs. Douglas suggested. "Since you're all so determined to get the poor man up."
The short haired lady, took the Marine's hand, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Maybe there's another way?" She suggested.
"Nope, get him up," Merle stated.
"Let's try to get some fluids into him." Mrs. Douglas repeated firmly. "He seems like he might be capable of at least downing some fluids."
"What kind of fluids?" The black lady asked.
"Electrolytes mostly, hang on," Mrs. Douglas scurried out.
"What the hell are electrolytes?" Mr. Dixon snarled.
"Ange?" The soldier mumbled, glazed eyes on the short haired woman above him. "Est-ce que je suis mort?"
"I don't speak French, Lieutenant," she said softly. "But we're here, you're going to be okay."
Noah watched the woman's eyes fill with tears and he winced. It didn't seem like she was that upset when she entered. He glanced around the clinic for a box of tissues for her.
"Everything will be okay," she went on.
Maybe the tears weren't for the Marine, he thought as he drew a few tissues out for the woman, handing them over politely with a small grin.
She returned it sadly.
"Why's he speaking in French?" Mr. Dixon demanded.
"He's confused," the woman with the sword replied calmly. "Probably can't remember English."
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Shumpert**
The Highway
"Let's pull over here," the Governor commanded. "We'll walk in, I want to scope the place first."
Glancing up at the others in the back of the truck, he made eye contact with Novak and nodded almost imperceptibly.
The blonde woman nodded back.
Pulling the truck over, Shumpert allowed the Governor to exit first, the others in the back piling out.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Rick**
The Mall
The rain was falling heavier now, less like a mist and more like fat drops the kind that rolled down like the hurricane rains he had seen in footage from Florida.
"Alright," he said dejectedly. "Let's get the others inside, can't see shit."
At his side Glenn nodded.
"Be careful, could be anything out there, Governor's men, walkers."
"I'll go, Rick. You stay in case the Governor's men arrive."
Tilting his head, Rick sighed. "Now, Glenn, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'll be fine," the younger man said. "I'm a good runner, remember?"
"Let me go, you can run out of here," Rick replied. "Hold down the fort."
The younger man blinked. "I can do it."
"You're staying here, that's final." Rick insisted. "Anyone comes out of that rain, you shoot them and get the hell out of this mall through the back entrance, right? I'll return with the others through the back, so if you see anyone coming from this direction, it's not us."
Glenn nodded reluctantly. "Okay."
Taking in the outside world, Rick frowned, before snatching Glenn's cap off his head. "I'm borrowing this."
"It's not going to keep you dry."
"Yeah well, I can't afford to get pneumonia at this point in my life," Rick replied, before pulling the cap over his head and dashing out into the nasty spring weather.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Andrea**
The Mall
They couldn't see anything.
Positioned in the woods across from the mall, the rain made it hard to see even three feet in front of them. She couldn't remember the last time it rained that hard.
"We should be in that mall," she griped.
Beside her Tyreese shifted on his feet. "Well, Rick wanted us to surround them."
"Can't see anything," she went on. "You know he put us here because he doesn't think we can handle ourselves."
"How do you expect to run out of that mall once they arrive?" Tyreese asked calmly. "You're lucky we didn't tie your ass back up and shove you in the back of one of those trucks."
"My leg's fine, don't worry about me," she stated.
Shivering from the cold rain, she tried to fluff up her light jacket, hoping it'd help insulate her from the cold, but it was damp and just sunk slowly back against her skin.
"You shoot Daryl once and suddenly they think you can't handle a weapon," she grumbled.
"You shot Daryl?"
"It was an accident." She stated.
"And he didn't shoot you back?"
"Well, he was kind of indisposed."
"I'm surprised that redneck didn't kick your ass good."
Andrea smiled. "That makes two of us."
Scanning the grey area beyond the woods, she spied a dark figure shifting about and raised her rifle.
Tyreese shoved it downwards, hand on the barrel.
"What the hell?" She snarled softly.
"Hold on," he replied. "Could be anyone."
"Could be a walker," she replied, struggling to lift her rifle again.
The man pushed it down again. "Girl are you mad?"
The figure drew nearer and she tensed, with Tyreese holding her rifle down, she was forced to just watch as the shape became clearer. It headed into the woods nearby.
Cautiously she and Tyreese followed the person, coming upon Rick looking about for them.
He pulled his pistol as she touched his shoulder and spun on them.
Andrea eyed the barrel, but Rick put it away quickly.
"What's going on?" She shouted over the sound of the rain.
"We're pulling it in," he said. "The rain's too thick, can't see anything. Don't want to risk walkers. I'm going east, pick up Sasha and Beth, you head over to where Alan's got himself situation in that tree. When you return to the mall, go in the back entrance, otherwise Glenn'll shoot you on sight."
She nodded and hurried off, out of the shelter of the trees into the hard pouring rain.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Merle**
Woodbury
"What is that shit you're giving him?" He demanded. "You ain't trying to smack my balls on the upswing, are you?"
Mrs. Douglas smirked as she carefully helped the Lieutenant down some of the clear liquid she had brought back with her, her hands shook as she held the bottle to his lips, but the Lieutenant was spilling enough on his own due to being weak, so it made no difference. Most of the concoction was reaching his stomach. "No, Merle, I'm not trying to hurt your soldier. I'm giving him a mixture of baking soda, salt and sugar in clean, crisp well water."
"Why?"
"Electrolytes," she said. "We used to mix this up for the calves on the farm whenever they got the scours."
"I don't know what that is, but it sounds nasty."
"It was nasty, poor babies would have shit their eyeballs out if it wasn't for a lot of care and tenderness." Mrs. Douglas stroked the hair off the Lieutenant's forehead and made a small sound in the back of her throat. "It feels like he has quite the bump, poor boy is probably concussed. When you get him home, give him a shot of a good, strong anti-biotic and let him rest, he needs his rest."
"Why are you giving him this stuff if it's for the shits?" Merle went on, still a little suspicious.
"He's lost a lot of blood, honey. This isn't as good as a transfusion, but it's the next best thing." The woman continued to examine the Cajun quietly, hands moving over his body in a slow, professional manner. "Might have a broken rib or two, I see a bruise, could be bad. We'll wrap him up before you move him, don't think he'll get much tender care in your beefy hands, Mr. Dixon."
"They may be beefy, but you'd be amazed what they do," he muttered.
"Noah, why don't you try to find him something to cover up with, it was pouring sheets outside when I went for the electrolyte mixture," the old woman ordered.
Noah nodded.
"Not too far from here," Karen warned him. "We should try to get moving," she explained, moving in close enough to speak quietly with Merle. "The guards at the gate will be changing shift and they've probably been ordered to check on the prisoner."
He nodded. "Yeah, alright, we'll head out when Noah gets back. Okay, dried apple doll," he said to Mrs. Douglas, "you have until the kid gets back to truss that man up."
"Keep speaking so kindly to me, Mr. Dixon and I will smack your balls on the upswing, literally." She retorted, moving to search the nearby drawers and cabinets for something to bind his ribs with.
The Cajun spoke in French to Karen who shook her head at him. "Sorry, honey, the only French I know is 'voulez-vous coucher avec moi'."
On the table, the Lieutenant fell silent, brow furrowed, more confused than he had been to begin with, his eyes glazed and darting around. It had been like he was trying, struggling to comprehend the world around him since he perked up a little, but he still flopped about like a limp fish, still sweated profusely, still refused to speak in goddamned English.
Michonne snorted at Merle's side.
"What?"
"That definitely gave him something to think about," she replied.
"I don't get it," Carol said.
Michonne chuckled. "Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da," she purred with a small, secretive smile.
The Cajun Dialect
Gris – Grey
Le canari a vos queue plumes. – The canary has your tail feathers.
Est-ce que je suis mort? – Did I die?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? – (Do I really need to translate this one? I'm not going to belittle you by doing so…come on. Look up Patti LaBelle if you're confused, you'll thank me for it...or go to my tumblr page, I posted the video there).