Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

Title: "Inventio"
Chapter: "2: Drop the Camouflage"

Michonne shaded her eyes as she stepped out into the yard. The sun shone hard and hot on the pavement and shimmered back up in waves that distorted her vision. It had to be today, didn't it? The very worst afternoon they'd faced this whole wretched summer and she was going to have to muck up in the dead. She could smell the reek off the walkers at the fence. It rolled off them in waves. The sun accelerated decay. She wished that it would just fry the bastards where they stood. Too bad there wasn't spontaneous human combustion. The thought of the corpses in the field lighting up one by one simply from the heat amused her. She shook her head. Yeah. Too damn bad.

Might as well get to it. Sooner begun, sooner done. She heard the door scrape open and Glenn stepped out in the sun to join her. She swore she could hear the sweat pop out from the pores on his forehead. He squinted over at her and pulled the most miserable face she had seen in months. He groaned, and she swore he would make a perfect walker. Despite herself she scoffed at him, and he smiled in return, looking a bit sheepish.

"What were you thinking? You want to draw a few into the yard here?"

She shook her head. "Just have to clean up later. Put a couple down right where we'll need 'em. Less fuss."

Glenn nodded in assent. "Out the west fence then? Do I need to get the wire cutters?"

Michonne held up the tool she'd taken from the truck. "Got wire, too."

Pulling his sleeve across his forehead, Glenn moved out toward the fence mumbling something.

"Hmm?"

"Just...I miss my baseball cap. Kept the sun off."

Boys and their hats, Michonne thought. Kendall had a whole collection of baseball caps, and never wore a single one. The last one she'd given him was...Charlotte Hornets, for his birthday. It was an exclusive from their 2001 playoff series. She'd had to go online to track it down for him, from somewhere in Ohio. It was probably still sitting in its box in that apartment, and would be for the next thousand years. Or maybe they had napalmed Memphis like they had other cities to clear the dead. Then it'd probably turned to ash like Kendall...like so much else she'd cared about. She looked at the back of Glenn's neck as he walked ahead of her. Now what that boy really needed was a sombrero or a hat like Carl's. His neck was already starting to turn pink under the scorching rays. It was a catch twenty-two about the haircut he'd just had. Less hair was cooler, but it exposed his neck.

There wasn't much call for anyone to be at the west fenceline most of the time. The yard was narrow there, just a path of concrete really, running between the building and the fence. The only exits on that side of the prison were a couple emergency doors and the most minimal of fire escape scaffolding. Certainly nothing they would use on any regular basis. As a result, other than being sure the fence wasn't compromised, nobody had paid much attention to it. Glenn slowed as he approached, and gave it a hard stare. If at all possible, he wanted to use an already existing breach rather than creating a new one. The fewer weak spots they had to police the better.

Doing his best to tune out the hissing, spitting and groaning, he walked the fence taking in the details of its structure. About 60 yards from the where it made the t-intersection with the inner gate and continued ahead to the field fence, there was a joint at one of the reinforcing rails. The builders had needed to begin with a new panel of mesh, and had made the transition at the post. To undo the existing joint, however, they'd either have to cut the fencing or undo the clamps that held the mesh to the post. Cutting would make it weak, and provide no greater convenience. Unclamping would take forever, both in and out.

About half way down the western side there were a set of double postings that was out of place. The section of fence in question had double posts at its north and south edges, while every other section had only one post. As Glenn investigated further, he realized that it had been set up to act as an additional gate if needed. The Second posts were not embedded into cemented footings in the ground like the others. However, instead of installing a set of latches and hardware for locking and sliding like the other gates, the wire mesh had simply been run across and attached as it was to the regular posts.

"Huh. Well, somebody thought ahead to make their lives easier."

Michonne had retreated into the shade of the building, and leaned against the brick watching Glenn as he inspected the fencing. "Got an idea?" she asked.

"Yeah, actually. One that might be good for a lot more than just your run."

Michonne pushed off from the wall to approach. "So?"

"Well, see, if we cut all the way up both sides and reinforce them, we've got a new gate. And it would be big enough to get a vehicle in over here." Glenn looked up the wall and back. "You know, park them next to the emergency exits. I don't know. It might be worth thinking on." Glenn swiped at his brow and his neck. His face hardened a bit. "I wonder if Merle could tell us how well he thinks they'd watch this side. Since we're never over here, maybe it's not scouted. Maybe it'd – "

"Be a secret stash," Michonne finished for him. Her eyes had a predatory glint.

Glenn grinned back at her. "We'll need a ladder, and I'll need to think about how to do hinges. Might be able to scrounge something from the broken fences out front. Think the two of us could make a quick out and back to the front gate in the Tuscon to check. Bring hardware back if we need it?"

Michonne allowed herself a rare smile. "Probably. Would want to wait on this, here, until night, though."

"Yeah." Glenn shaded his eyes and looked up at the sky. "Thank God. At least I don't have to do it all in this blistering sun!"

Michonne scoffed at him again, and when Glenn laughed she joined him in low tones.

"Let's drop the camouflage we need though, yeah?" she said.

"Yeah."

Glen pulled out his knife from the make-shift sheath on his belt and moved over to line himself up with a particularly tattered walker at the fence. It was missing its right ear, and its right arm hung by only some ropey filaments below the elbow. While it tried to reach through to him with its left hand, the spikey, blackened bone fragments of its right arm rasped against the wire grid. As he reared back to build momentum for the strike, Glenn was stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

"Don't want to block the gate."

Glenn looked over his shoulder. If he thought she was capable of it, he would have sworn Michonne was teasing him.

"Oh, yeah. Right." He cleared his throat and shifted his stance when she let go of his wrist. Pulling his knife against the fence, he drew a couple walkers toward him and back the way they'd come. When he heard the hiss of Michonne's blade leave its scabbard he stopped and readied himself again.

The two made quick work of downing a half-dozen of the dead before stepping back and wiping off their weapons. As he re-sheathed his knife Glenn frowned. "One of us is going to have to talk with Merle to get an opinion."

Michonne had slung the scabbarded katana over her shoulder again, and was standing back up from where she'd bent to retrieve the wire-cutters and spool of wire near the wall. She made eye contact with him, then screwed up her mouth as if tasting something bad, and looked to the side.

Glenn had to agree. "Yeah. Not the two best choices for that."

Michonne raised an eyebrow and turned, beginning her walk back toward their preferred entrance. "My talking hasn't ended in gunfire. Yet."

"Uh, yeah. Ha, true." Glenn couldn't quite tell if she was joking, or angry, or something else.

"Said he wants to make peace. I'll let him try."

Glenn had caught up to her. In truth their little dust-up had built her respect for Glenn. He'd stood up to the bastard and in the same moment had seemed to put down some of the demons that had haunted him since their return from Woodbury. Michonne knew a thing or two about anger and bad decisions. She was glad that Glenn was a relatively fast learner. Merle was not.