Disclaimer: Don't own em, don't make me say it again. -_-
Notes: Updated/typos corrected 3/30
Chapter Three
(Fin's POV)
Carl is where I left him.
But he is not alone.
I reach him just as he is climbing down back down to hang suspended at the end of the rope. There's a man with him I don't know; he obviously does.
Carl is talking animatedly with him as he comes down. I'm too far away to catch the words. Too busy making sure my footfalls remain silent on the ground to try to concentrate on what's being said. They haven't noticed me yet. Maybe this is part of his old group; they can leave together go with Rick and move on before they cause me problems.
I don't need any more problems.
I can hear them now.
"Hell you get up there?" The man's accent is all Southern Georgia, he's undoing the knot in my rope; lowering Carl to the ground.
"Fin, we have to help her!"
Shit. Kid's got morals that will get him killed out here. Maybe the man without sleeves will show more sense since I just took off with a bunch of Walkers.
"Which direction they go?"
Double shit. Enough sense to carry a crossbow, not enough to stick to worrying about himself…course I'm also out here for someone else so…yeah.
Damn edible people and their values.
"I'm fine."
No sleeves has got an arrow aimed at my head before I finish. I feel my eyebrow arch but I don't stop walking towards them.
"It's okay! Daryl this is Fin."
"Hell kind of name is that for a girl?" Daryl frowns at me.
Country boy. A good looking redneck in the apocalypse. Just my luck. "It's a nickname."
I grab the rope from the ground begin unclipping the hooks from Carl's harness. "We have to go," We've lost too much time with the Walkers, and Rick is alone in no condition to defend himself.
I wind the rope over my arm feeling the rough picks where the rough tree limb's bark has snagged the line; not that it could be helped. There was no time to set it up differently, and I doubt Carl could free climb a tree without a lot of practice.
"S pretty quick thinking hiding in a tree like that."
"Fin's idea. She lead the Walkers away, I would have fought them-"
"No one's questioning your bravery Carl." I cut him off. "There were too many of them to take on with just two people."
"Yeah but you did it." He looks up at me.
I frown. I don't need hero worship, that could get an impressionable young boy killed thinking I'm something I'm not.
Too much blood on my hands already…
"No." I add. "I ran, something I practice every day. Track star that's me."
Lie.
I hated running; I never did it before this shit went down. But I've gotten good at it, and it's safer than having him think I killed off 20-something dead single handedly. Even if I could have-it feels too much like slaughter when they just stand there.
I have nightmares about it at times; of all the asinine things to dream about.
I keep talking as I work to wind the rope. "I got far enough ahead of them and went up a tree, got lucky most of them kept going."
Carl's mouth pinches tight; he'll remember that, which is good.
I don't want to be Batman, I don't need a Robin.
I just want to get them where they're going and be gone.
Before they kill me.
"Where's Rick." It's not a question, he must have a lot of confidence in Rick to not even question his survival.
"House north of here, by the lake. He's pretty banged up." I've finished stuffing the rope in my pack, zipping it closed again. I slide my bow back over my shoulder with my pack.
"We came out to get more herbs to help. Fin makes them into this medicine." Carl tells him.
Herbs that are now stuffed in the front pocket of my pack. "Let's go." We can talk about this later.
I start off toward the lake, eyes alert for Walkers. I get the feeling I'm going to have to play my part a lot more convincingly with Daryl around. One more thing to worry about.
Carl follows me with quick steps to keep up with my pace. Daryl follows bow down, but ready.
We've gone maybe 400 yards when he speaks. "Hold up a sec,"
Carl stops immediately so I pause.
"Left Beth over here when I heard the whistle."
"Beth's alive?" Carl lights up.
Daryl jerks his chin once. Man of few words.
He steers us east for a few hundred yards till we hit a road. I know it. Daryl approaches one of the cars parked on the grass, rusted and covered in a thick layer of yellow Fall pollen that even Georgia thunderstorms don't take off.
A skinny blond climbs out of the car's backseat. She heads towards us quickly, she's taller than me—not difficult to accomplish, but I realize she's not much older than Carl. She'd probably be in High School in another world.
"Carl!" She flings one arm around him holding a small revolver by her side in the other. She pulls back, "Your Dad?" Carl doesn't smile, but his face softens he nods.
"He's alive. I'm sorry…"
Beth shakes her head quickly her cheeks flush fighting back a wash of emotion. "It's okay." I recognize that look.
It's not. But what else can you say when you lose someone? Words fail. Emotions cripple you, and that gets you killed.
You honor the dead by not becoming one of them.
"We have to go," Carl nods Beth eyes me, she's a very pretty girl even under the dirt and grime. She should be waving palm palms at a football game not shoving a revolver into her back pocket.
"Beth, this is Fin. She helped me and my Dad."
"Thank you." Her voice is soft, like her smile. I nod.
"Let's go." Daryl obviously isn't one for emotions either.
We're already on the road now so I jog up its edge the others follow until we reach the lake's turnoff. I veer down it eyes alert for more people or dead. We reach the cabin where we left Rick in the loft without incident. Only one dead guy passes near us as we move, he's far enough away I'm tempted to ignore him, continue on but he falls from an arrow through his eye socket before I can react. Daryl leaves us for a moment to retrieve his arrow without comment.
I'll keep a closer eye on the hunter from now on.
Rick is healing slowly. Bruised or broken ribs take time though. His face no longer looks like a rotten pumpkin. Just the slight hint of purple still darkens one brow, most of his jawline. The herbs have taken the swelling out completely.
He still moves with the awkward jerks of one guarding injuries, it's still sharp. I can hear it in his breathing when he moves. He's sitting up at the table despite the fact that doing so causes him serious discomfort. The others sit with him, trying to decide what to do. I considered leaving them to work it out themselves but Rick asked me to stay so I did.
"How many were in your group?" They've been talking alone for a while. I need to know.
"About thirty before the attack." I frown. That's a lot of mouths to feed.
I stand from my spot by the floor. Cross to look at the map they've spread out on the table top. "Where is this meeting spot?"
Carl points to the map when the movement makes Rick grunt in pain.
"And the prison?"
Carl points to that too. Just across the river from Woodbury.
"There were a few escape plans in place in case we were attacked. If anyone made it out they should be headed there." Rick nods to Carl who traces his finger over the routes; all three of them.
"If they're still alive. They'll be here." Carl taps the map stares at his own finger. As if the act of staring at the spot on a map will somehow tell him if that's were their lost family is now waiting.
It's been a few days now, and I've been sending Dead that way for weeks not knowing there were others to endanger. I'll keep that knowledge to myself.
Beth looks upset. Carl told me she still has an older sister.
"If they are headed there it would take them time, this area is packed with dead." I run my fingers over the stretch of road. "They'll most likely have to double back, take their time. I'd suggest working our way up here, and then crossing over the creek at this bridge to the intersection." It's through the woods, but it's better than traveling in the open that close to the Peacock farm.
"They might not even be there." Daryl adds.
"We have to try, we found each other again after the farm." Beth's voice is quiet almost pleading.
Rick pauses considering, Daryl is silent.
"Either way, you're in no shape to go far." I continue looking at Rick. He can barely sit upright in a chair there's no way he can hike through the woods and sleep on the ground and fight the dead.
"Can't stay here, there's not enough food."
It always comes down to that. I sigh. Look at Carl, then Beth.
I'm going to regret this.
"I can get you over here by car." I point. "There's food there. And shelter that will keep you safe 'til we can find any other members of your group."
"What kind of shelter?" Daryl's voice is gruff.
"My home, for the last two years." I stare at Rick, we're both aware of what I'm offering.
"You've done so much already, I can't ask you to do this too." He doesn't look away though.
"Yeah well, winter is coming; you have nowhere else to go. And I can't turn away kids. You seem decent, don't prove me wrong."
It's a threat. He nods again.
I'm an idiot. But what's the point in hunting monsters if I don't help the only people left in this god-forsaken world?
"Alright, we have to ask you three questions if you're going to be with us."
"Shouldn't I ask the questions since you're following me around?"
He didn't ask them before, maybe he didn't expect me to stick around, I didn't either. We stare at each other over the map for a full minute.
"Whatever, what's the questions?" I can't help but wonder what kind of information he feels is important enough to base someone's character on, like I haven't shown that already.
"How many Walkers have you killed?"
I almost laugh. "I don't count." It would be unbearable to count.
"How many people have you killed?"
"Directly or indirectly?" He stares at me.
"How many people have you personally killed."
That's cheating.
"8."
Rick stops. Carl is staring at me eyes wide.
"Why?"
"They were monsters."
"Who hell decides if they're monsters?" I don't care for the look Daryl's giving me right now.
I do.
"That governor you ran into?" I stare back at Daryl unblinking. "He didn't start out innocent; he was twisted inside all the way down to the bone long before the world went to Hell." If he hadn't been protecting a town full of people who were mostly ignorant and innocent…I'd have killed him first chance I got.
"He was a monster." Carl is looking at his Dad. I'm not sure if I passed, don't really care.
They're supposed to be going with me; not the other way around.
I don't need to pass his judgment to sleep at night…I sleep like shit already.
Rick inclines his head to me, so I guess I passed muster. "You want to ask something?"
"No questions. I have two conditions: You must accept them."
"Fair's Fair." Rick watches me. He's sweating a bit more. He needs to go lie back down.
"First; I come and go as I please, and this is non-negotiable: If I get bit, I get to walk away. Nobody tries to be a savior and hack off my limbs or blows my brains out. That's MY deal or we part ways now."
"You'd rather be a Walker…" Carl starts.
"I'd rather not be murdered before I'm dead." I cut him off.
I don't look at anyone but Rick. But I can feel Daryl's stare like a heavy weight.
"It's a take it or leave it offer."
Rick looks tired. He turns to looks at Beth, and then Daryl. He nods finally. "Okay, it's a deal."
"We'll leave in the morning."
Carl's up from the table in an instant. "Come outside Beth. Fin can show you how we escaped those Walkers."
I leave Rick and Daryl alone at the table; they obviously need to talk about me.
:: Walking Dead ::