(a/n: I mentioned before that I accidentally made Ashlyn's old boyfriend's name, James, too close to Jim so I'm changing it to Mike so there isn't any confusion. I didn't get as far as I planned in this chapter as I was said I would, but I hope you like it anyway.)
ASHLYN
I thought my uncertainty about my decision would fade as we headed to the CDC, but the opposite happened. We've been driving for a couple hours now and I have nothing to distract me from anxiety. My instincts keep shouting at me to turn around and haul ass in the opposite direction but something keeps me from listening. I remember Jim's words to me from back in the RV, Surviving isn't everything… Mel would want you to be happy. That's all she ever wanted. I know he was right. Before the outbreak happened, she was always checking up on me, making sure I wasn't working too hard. After everything that happened with Mike, it even got to the point where she was almost mad at me. Mike always seemed like the perfect guy; everyone who ever saw us would say we looked great together. I tried to care about him in some special way, but I could never fool myself. During my two months of solitude, however, there were times when I wished I had just said yes. Now here I am, scared to commit to people, again. The situations are so similar, I can practically feel her looking down on me, right now, giving me the same look she did that day. The day I told her I was leaving to New York. You can't keep running your whole life, Ash.
I sigh, hitting the back of my head against the seat. Despite all my fretting, I know there's no turning back this time. I can't make the same mistake again.
The cars ahead of me slowed to a stop. I throw my truck into park, strap on my backpack, and step out. Immediately, I'm hit by the strong smell of rot. The loud buzzing of flies unnerves me and I stand still, taking in my surroundings. Dead bodies litter the street, the sidewalk, the grass—everywhere. I can see them inside broken down cars and draped over the barricades surrounding the CDC. I've seen some pretty bad carnage during my travels and this is definitely up there. It doesn't help that I knew some people that worked here. I can't help but look at the faces of the corpses, expecting to see my colleagues.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and spin my head around, raising my crowbar. Daryl gives me a look, as if telling me to keep moving, and continues walking. He steps carefully around the bodies, with his crossbow at the ready. I follow close behind him, now quiet and alert. I mentally scold myself for letting my guard down. This isn't the time to get emotional.
The whole group moves together, Rick in front and Shane right behind him. Everyone seems to be a bit distracted by the smell and sight of the bodies, just like I was.
"All right, everybody," Shane whispers, not wanting to draw attention to the group, "Keep moving, go on." We all quickly follow, wanting to get away from the morbidity and find somewhere safe. "Stay quiet, let's go."
As we get closer to the entrance, however, the body count increases. It makes sense, I suppose. The CDC must have been like a beacon of hope that everyone was drawn to, like flies to a light. Looking for a cure, for answers, for shelter, just like us. Many of the bodies have military uniforms and guns and the building is surrounded by bunkers. Tanks are parked all along the street. It seems their efforts to restrain the crowd failed though.
"Keep moving, c'mon," Rick hisses. I can see seeds of panic growing in everyone's eyes. The buzzing is growing louder, the smell stronger. It feels like we're moving further and further from safety. "Almost there, almost there."
We reach the entrance, large reinforced doors with caution signs, warning people to stay back. Shane tries to lift one, but it won't budge.
"Nothing?" Rick asks. He tries lifting the door, but again, nothing.
Shane pounds on the door and the noise echoes through the streets. I cringe away from the sound, knowing what that kind of noise attracts.
"There's nobody here," T-Dog says, impatiently. Seems like he wants to get out of here just as badly as I do.
"Then why are these shutters down," Rick counters. He has a point. They're the kind of things that look like they would be closed from the inside. Who would bother closing them if they were on their way out?
"Walkers!" Daryl shouts. We all turn around to see walkers coming at us from all directions.
"Baby, come on," Lori calls out to Rick. He doesn't seem to listen though, still trying to get in.
I hear a chorus of guns cocking as we prepare to face the hoard that's gathering in front of us. But people hesitate to fire, not wanting to make any more noise.
Daryl steps out to the front and takes out the closest one, sending an arrow right through its eye socket. "You lead us into a graveyard!" He yells, aggressively turning back to Rick.
"We made a call," Rick says firmly.
"It was the wrong damn call!"
"Just shut up. You hear me? Just shut up. Shut up!" Shane commands, knocking Daryl's chest, the panic setting in. He turns to Rick now, just as forceful as Daryl was, "Rick, this is a dead end."
"Where are we gonna go?" Lori looks distraught, everyone does. I'm keeping my eye on the hoard, crowbar raised. I should've known the CDC would be like this, given them a better warning.
"Do you hear me?" Rick demands, turning back to the door.
"No blame," Shane tells him, although I know it's on everyone's mind.
"We have to go," Lori tells Rick.
"She's right."
"We can't be here, this close to the city after dark."
"The tanks," I say, remembering the story Jim told me about when Glenn found Rick in Atlanta. "Take shelter in the tanks, I have an idea."
"No! I know what you're thinking," Glenn stands by me protectively.
I ignore him though, and keep instructing the others, "Go! If you guys can make it to them, I can draw the walkers away—"
"No, no one has to sacrifice themselves," Rick interrupts, his attention going quickly back to the door. Others are looking at me now though, open to the idea of any plan at this point.
"I'll be fine, Daryl, cover me while I run back to the truck. I can use the horn to draw them away." He hesitates for a minute but nods, looking back at the group to see if they're on board.
"This could work," Shane agrees, "We can meet you at Fort Benning. Rick, it's our best option."
"On what? No food, no fuel? It's a hundred miles," Carol chimes in.
"125. I checked," Glenn corrects her. They have a point but I'm not worried about Fort Benning right now.
"We don't have to make it to Fort Benning tonight, we just have to get away from here," I try.
I hear another one of Daryl's arrows piercing the skull of a walker. Everyone else seemed to also, spiking their impatience.
"Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight, now!" Lori yells to the group, but the last part is directed at Rick.
"We'll think of something," Rick replies, trying to calm her down. It comes out too loud and uncertain though and no one is convinced.
"C'mon, let's go," Shane says, trying to reason with his partner. He moves over to me and looks me right in the eye, "You don't have to be the one to do this."
"It's my plan, I can do it," I say, seriously. He hesitates so I tell him, "they'll need you if they want to get to Fort Benning. I can do it." He nods and begins instructing the others, directing them to different tanks.
It has to be me. I barely know them, so it won't matter if I get separated. I also can't help feel but responsible. Part of me knew this would be a dead end but I didn't say anything.
I'm about ready to make a run for it, with Daryl clearing a path, when Rick yells, "The camera! It moved!" I glance back and see Rick, determined as ever to get inside. "It moved." The group moves back toward the door, drawn by hope.
"It's an automated device. It's gears, okay?" Shane again tries reasoning with him, but apparently there's no stopping Rick once he's got a spark of hope. "Man, just listen to me! Look around this place, it's dead, okay? It's dead. You need to let go Rick!"
"Rick, there's nobody here!" Lori shrieks.
"I know you're in there," Rick speaks, deliberately, to the camera. "I know you can hear me." The rest of the group has lost hope though. I hand my backpack to Glenn, not wanting it to weigh me down when I run for my life. "Please, we're desperate. Please help us, we have women and children, no food, hardly any gas left." He starts speaking faster, more frantic. Lori tries to get him to give up but he keeps going, "We have nowhere else to go. If you don't let us in, you're killing us." The hoard is on us now. Everyone is fighting them back, trying to clear as many of them away as we can before we run. "Please, Please help us!" Rick keeps shouting, but Shane is dragging him away. "You're killing us! You're killing us!"
I see an opening in the hoard and share a look with Daryl. We both know, it's now or never.
"I'll see you in Fort Benning," he says. I nod and take off. I sprint about three steps, arrows flying passed me, when I hear a loud noise and see a bright light from behind me. I turn and see the door open and everyone else turned around as well. Daryl spins back to me, fires another arrow, and yells "Get back!"
I abandon my mission, still astonished at the open doors before me.
Our exchanged looks of amazement are interrupted by the approaching snarling behind us. We hurry inside, fully alert. Although we're escaping the walkers, we're not entirely sure what we're heading into.
"Hello?" Rick calls out. I back into the room, last, protecting the rear. "Close those doors." I bring the heavy metal door down and turn around to see we're in a large, open room. The architecture is impressive and modern, suited for a glorified government building. Only now its empty and fortified. "Hello?"
After a moment of silence, we get a response, "Hello?" The unfamiliar voice echoes through the room, startling the group. Glenn cocks his gun and points it in the direction of the voice. Standing on the other side of the grand room is a middle aged man holding a very powerful looking shotgun. I don't recognize him as someone I've ever worked with. "Anybody infected?"
"One of our group was," Rick replies, still shaking from his earlier breakdown. "He didn't make it."
"Why are you here? What do you want?" The man fires his questions at us.
"A chance," Rick breathes.
"That's asking an awful lot these days."
"I know."
Silence fills the room as the man examines us. I understand him, how he feels. We're strangers. He has no idea if we're dangerous, what we want from him. He's clearly outnumbered, out gunned. He's obviously the one that let us in though. Part of him must trust us, at least a little.
"You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."
"We can do that," Rick answers. A small price to pay for letting us in. I can't help but wonder why he's doing this. We couldn't of been the first ones to come knocking. Not with all those bodies on his front yard. I don't blame him for not letting everyone and their grandmother in though. This isn't a refugee camp, it's a laboratory, one that's supposed to be finding a cure. What changed? I suppose he isn't worried about too many people coming in, considering most people are dead. He could just be lonely. Or maybe he just had a change of heart, like I did.
"You got stuff to bring in, do it now," the man commands. He's obviously reluctant about all of this. "Once this door closes, it stays closed." My heart speeds up, my anxiety back. I don't like not having a way out. I look around but no one else seems alarmed by this. I don't blame them, being locked in here is better than being stuck out there at the moment. I push my fears away. This is what I've chosen. To stick with these people. I can't keep running.
Rick nods at the man and he leads us to a separate entrance so we don't have to get through all those walkers to get our stuff. I take every last thing out of my jeep. I pack all of my journals, notes, and maps into a duffel and stuff the rest into my backpack. When I walk away from my truck, I feel sick, like I'm leaving my home. I suck it up though, and run back to the CDC. Jumping over bodies, I keep my eye on the large hoard that's just beginning to wander away from the other entrance.
Suddenly I feel something cold and sticky clasp around my ankle. My leg pulled out from under me, I fall to the ground. One hand on my duffel and the other reaching for my crowbar, I don't have any free hands to break my fall so I land hard on my shoulder. I turn over quickly and see a walker with no legs, gripping my ankle. I bring my crowbar down on its skull. The hooked end catches on the underneath of its jawbone. I know I missed the brain because it's still pulling my ankle and trying to snap its teeth at me. I yank my crowbar so its head is pulled away from me and smash in the back of its decaying head with the side of my gun, over and over again until it stops moving.
Panting heavily, I stare at the damage. Despite my many encounters with the Infected, I can never handle sneak attacks. If I see them coming at me before they get me, I can keep a level head. But not like this.
"Look out!" Before I can even turn my head, I feel blood spray on my back and across the side of my face. A walker collapses to the left of me, an arrow through its temple. Not wanting a third surprise attack, I scramble to my feet and cock my gun. I spin around, ready to shoot anything dead that starts moving.
Daryl runs up next to me, crossbow at the ready. He starts to raise his hand, like he's about to reach out to me, but stops himself. He pulls a bandana from his back pocket and hands it to me. I look at him for a second, confused, before I feel the walker blood start to run down my face.
"Oh… thanks," I pant, quickly wiping my face. He nods but avoids eye contact. Before I can return the bandana, he picks my duffel up off the ground, pulls the arrow from the walker's head, and continues running back to the CDC.
I stare after him for a moment, forgetting my grudge against him, still shaking from my close encounters. Hearing groans behind me, I start yanking at my crowbar, still lodged in the walker's skull.
DARYL
I'm runnin' back to the side entrance we took to get our stuff, but I glance back at Red, makin' sure nothings sneaking up on her again. She's still there, trying to pry her crowbar outta that walker's skull. She gives it one final pull and I can hear it's jawbone snap. She starts runnin' back too, so I look away and keep movin'. What's she doing? Not paying attention when she's surrounded by walkers. I don't know how the fuck she survived on her own so long. Gotta admit though, she beat the shit out of the first one that grabbed at her. I know she landed on her shoulder hard so I grabbed her duffel. I don't care if she's hurt or nothin', just couldn't have her slowin' us down.
I think about her crazy ass plan to save everyone by running through a hoard of walkers. I know she was doin' it to help get us out of that mess, but it seemed like she wasn't too upset about being separated from the group either. I can't figure out what's up with this chick. Ever since she went off on me after I saw her changing at her truck, I've been thinking about her. It's goddamn annoying.
It must just be guilt from trying to kill her sister's husband. Whatever. I made my peace with Jim. She's just gotta grow up and realize you have to do shit you don't like if you want to survive.
I stop thinking about Red when I step back into the CDC. Looks like Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog made it back just fine with all the stuff.
"Vi, seal the main entrance." The guy that let us in says, speaking into an intercom after Red stumbles in. "Kill the power up here."
Rick introduces himself to the guy, who says his name is Dr. Edwin Jenner. I don't trust him, not with the way he left us out there for so long, screamin' at the door. Don't have many options though, so I guess we're sticking with it.
"Ashlyn! Are you ok?" Glenn runs over to Red, who's still breathing heavily after being attacked. He looks her over. "You're covered in blood."
"I'm fine." I notice her drop her hand from her shoulder. "It's walker blood, not my own."
"As long as you're ok ." She smiles at him and gives him a light hug.
She looks over at me, catching me watching them, so I turn away. "Daryl," she says, comin' up to me. "I'll give you back your bandana after I wash it. It's got too much zombie guts on it for me to feel right handing it back now."
"Do whatever you want," I mutter, not looking at her.
I hear her scoff, just under her breath, but she keeps talking. "Well, thanks for looking out for me. Back when we were locked out, too."
"Yeah, don't start thinking I'm giving you special treatment or nothin'," I grumble. What's she pretending to be all friendly for? I look over when she doesn't reply. She's just standin' there with her eyebrows raised and arms crossed, looking all smug. "What are you lookin' at?"
"If you're not giving me any special treatment, then I can carry my own bag," she replies, giving a pointed look at her duffel. Goddammit. I thrust the bag back at her and she grabs it, slinging it over the shoulder she didn't fall on. She cracks a smile, clearly amused. I start walking away but I hear her say, "Really though, thanks."
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wanted to get further along to when they're having dinner and stuff but it was getting too long so I'm splitting the chapter. Since I already have some of the next one done, it should be up Thursday of Friday. Feedback is really appreciated, especially about the Daryl parts. Thanks for all the reviews and follows!