Chapter 4
Another week has gone by. I find it hard to believe that it's been just about a month since I joined the group. Everyone in the prison is familiar with me now. The kids love to hang out with me and are entertained by the crossbow shooting competitions that Daryl and I have started. My wound is practically healed, so I am expecting Hershel to remove the stitches some time soon. I really do hope so because the stitches are getting on my nerves. Ever since the night Rick and I shared a bit of our lives with one another, we seem to have made more of a connection. He is starting to confide in me his thoughts and feelings about anything. I do the same, feeling that he and I can understand one another on a certain level. He's still, however, trying to find out the story about Elena. I'm not sure if I want to share that with him…at least not anytime soon.
The sun's shining bright outside of the prison. I'm outside by the farm under the canopy tent, examining my pistol to make sure everything is set. It has been a while since I cleaned the barrel. It's a CZ P-07 Duty, my favorite handgun, so I have to make sure I take good care of it. I'd hate for it to malfunction in a life or death situation.
"Hey, Michelle?" I hear someone ask.
I turn to my left and see Carl walking up to me.
"Carl, hey, what's up?" I say as I begin to insert the mag into my gun and place it into my holster around my waist.
"Listen, I know my dad is going on the errand run with you, Daryl and Michonne," he begins to say in a serious tone. "I know that he didn't want me finding out."
Having spent time with Carl, I've come to learn that he's clever at figuring things out.
"He hasn't been using his gun so much, and I know he's still dealing with a lot of things regarding it," he continues.
I recall Rick explaining to me the day why he gave up his gun and also took Carl's. Both of them have gone through a lot, and Rick wants a psychological break from his gun duties. He also explained he's afraid what kind of person Carl is turning into because of using a gun; it's the reason he took Carl's away. Rick wants his son to start feeling like a kid again…and I respect that.
"I'm afraid he might end up freaking out and will end up getting into trouble," Carl explains.
"Do you want me to try and talk him out of it?" I ask giving him a questionable look.
"Even if you do, he won't listen; my dad's stubborn," Carl says which makes me smile a bit. "That's why I'm going to ask you for a favor."
"Sure, go ahead," I say as I check my mag holster on my waist.
"I want you to keep an eye out for him."
I gaze at Carl and see concern and seriousness in his eyes.
"I hope it's not too much to ask…I know that you and my dad get along well. I just need someone who I can trust to look after him and bring him back safely."
His words astonish me. Here Carl is, a fourteen-year old boy, expressing such a mature kind of concern for his father.
"Don't worry, buddy," I say as I finish securing my holster belt around my waist. "I'll take good care of your dad."
Giving him a warm smile, I mess up the top of his hair with my hand. He smiles warmly back at me.
"Yo, Michelle! You ready?" I hear Daryl call out near the drive pathway.
I look over at him and see Rick and Michonne heading toward the pathway as well where the Hyundai SUV is parked.
"Yeah, I'm comin'!" I call out back to him. "I'll take care of your dad while you take care of your sister," I say to Carl as I hold my fist out to him.
He nods with a smile and bumps my fist with his own. I then quickly make my way toward Rick, Michonne and Daryl near the SUV. Michonne is about to get into the backseats of the vehicle while Ricks stands just a few away, waiting for me to approach.
"Is Carl all right?" he asks me in a low voice.
"He's fine," I say as I walk past him toward the other side of the SUV. "Just needed a favor. No worries."
Rick turns away with a curious look on his face, but shakes it off and heads to the driver's seat. I climb into the front passenger seat and close the door, Rick then climbing into the driver's seat. He sticks the key into the ignition and starts the engine.
"We all set to head out?" Rick asks aloud.
"Let's roll," Daryl responds.
With that, Rick gives the signal to Carol and Sasha to open the entrance doors. As soon as they fully open, Rick quickly drives out past the doors and into the highway road. I look through the rear view mirror and see that some walkers are attracted to the closed front doors and the SUV. I place my arm along the side of my door and stare out the window. Daryl is examining his crossbow in the back seat, making sure everything is intact.
"I'm kinda bummed out that we didn't getta have our crossbow competition today, Michelle," Daryl breaks the silence.
"You should be glad; otherwise, I would've embarrassed you," I tease, causing Michonne to smile.
"Embarrassed me, yeah right," Daryl says in defense. "I'm the one who taught you what you know."
"Well, the student often comes to surpass the teacher," I retaliate again, causing Rick to scoff with a smile.
"Michelle is kicking your ass, even out of the competition," Michonne chimes in and I smirk.
"Damn, what's with you females gangin' up on me?" Daryl remarks and glances in front of him at Rick. "You gonna back me up here, Rick?"
Rick keeps his eyes on the road, rubbing his chin with his left hand while steering with his right.
"You're askin' me for help," Rick answers. "Don't you think that's showin' you can't defend yourself?"
Michonne and I can't hold in our laughter. Daryl looks a bit disappointed.
"Man, whatever!" Daryl pouts and sinks into his seat, crossing his arms.
"Awww, poor little Dawyl," I say tease. "He's grumpy now."
Daryl just grunts in response and stares out the window.
"I love you too, Daryl," I joke, causing Michonne and Rick to scoff with a smile.
There's another moment of silence. I rest my chin on my fist as I stare out the window again.
"Damn it, it's too quiet," Daryl comes back again. "Let's talk about somethin'. If we could have somethin' to drink, what would yours be?"
"Is yours Kool-Aid?" I tease, not being able to resist, making Rick and Michonne chuckle again.
"Let's be serious here," Daryl says. "I'm talkin' liquor."
"Alright, alright, in all seriousness," I say holding my hand up and setting it back down on my thigh. "For me, it would be between tequila and vodka…or anything that has some good taste and liquor."
"Damn alcoholic," Daryl jokes, causing me to burst out with a laugh.
"Hey, after all we've been through, I'd be happy to drink just about anything!" I remark with a shrug while holding my hands up, sheepishly smiling.
"I second that," Daryl agrees. "What about you, Michonne?"
"I'm not that into liquor, but if I had to choose…" she answers. "It would probably be chardonnay white wine."
"Ooo, fancy!" I comment in surprise.
"I'd drink any type of scotch," Daryl shares. "Scotch in a highball glass with some ice cubes…Oh, doesn't that sound refreshin'?"
"Very," I agree, picturing the drink in my head.
"What about you, Rick?" Daryl asks, sitting up closer to Rick's seat.
"Probably whiskey," he answers, rubbing the outside of his mouth with his fingers. "Whiskey also in a highball glass and ice."
"Ugh, you guys are making wanna drink," I lean my head back against the headrest of my seat.
"Alcoholic," Daryl coughs under his breath.
I laugh and turn toward him, playfully hitting him in the leg with my hand.
"Were you two siblings or something?" Michonne jokes.
"We're twins," I joke.
"Yeah, can't ya tell?" Daryl plays along. "We have the same dark, wild curly hair," he says as he flips his flat, brown bangs off his face.
We all burst out in a bit of laughter.
"I'm sorry, Daryl, but I think you'd look disturbing with hair like mine," I say turning to him.
"I seriously wouldn't be surprised if you two happen to be related," Michonne comments jokingly.
"That'd be interesting," I say as I look at one of my nails. "But Daryl and I are different races: he's white, I'm not."
"Wait, then, what are ya?" Daryl asks in curiosity.
"I'm Mexican."
"Are ya serious?" Daryl is astonished, Rick also showing surprise.
"I wouldn't have thought you were Mexican, either," Michonne adds.
"Yeah, I used to get that lot," I stare out the window. "People would think I'm Italian or something…"
"Say something in Spanish," Daryl says as he leans forward to me.
"Tu eres como un niño chiquito; bien tonto," I reply turning and looking straight at him.
"That sounded cool," Daryl exclaims. "What'd ya say?"
"You're like a little boy; very dumb," I translate, giving him a playfully wink.
Michonne and Rick laugh a bit.
"You'n'I are a lot like siblins'," Daryl comments with a laugh as he sits back in his seat.
I chuckle and return my gaze out the window. After a few seconds, I turn my attention to Rick, who's concentrated on the road.
"Why are you so quiet over there, sheriff?" I say, lightly tapping him on the shoulder. "You doin' all right?"
"Just listenin' to you kids," he jokes.
"Oh! The cowboy has some jokes!" I exclaim while turning to Daryl and pointing at Rick.
Rick chuckles a bit. I sigh and lean my head back against the headrest.
"So why'd a girl like you join the military?" Daryl asks out of the blue.
"Wow…that's a good question, hmm…" I respond as I look up at the ceiling of the SUV. "Since high school, I considered joining the military. I wanted to join right after I graduated from high school, but my father explained to me that I should get my college education first; that way, I could also guarantee a different occupation after the military. I thank my father for that, may he rest in peace… I thought joining the military would help me fulfill my purpose and serve to protect the people of this country. I was an only child, so it was rough growing up the way I did…widowed father who had trouble making ends meet. I wanted to come back home after I served in the military to help my father out; I did up until his death when I was around twenty-three. About five of the six years I spent in the military, I served in combat – the rest, I either served in the technological or medical field, and I was also in a coma after being shot in the line of duty," I say scoffing with a smile. "I don't know…most of why I chose to be in the military was because I wanted to protect people…the other reason, well, I like action and adventure."
I peer out the window and spot a walker near the edge of the woods.
"It seems that I got what I was lookin' for," I sarcastically say.
"That's deep," Daryl comments. "What was your rank?"
"I reached sergeant before I resigned," I reply while scratching my wrist.
"Do ya still have your badges?"
"Yeah, somewhere in my belongings back at the prison."
"Ya gotta show me when we get back," Daryl says in a bit of excitement. "Besides callin' ya vampire, I can call you sarge now."
I chuckle as I dig my fingers through my dark curls and rest my head on my hand.
"Anyway, Michonne," I say pulling the long sleeve of my dark green shirt down a bit. "How long have you been wielding that katana of yours? It's pretty badass."
Michonne lets out a bit of a chuckle.
"Been havin' this katana for many years," she responds as she stares out the window. "It's precious to me and has a lot of meaning."
She does not continue after that. I have come to notice that Michonne is not much of a talker and has a hard time opening up to people. She tends to work alone quietly and keeps much of her past a secret, but still fights for the survivors' defense as strongly as the other active defenders in the prison. I have a lot of respect for her, but I still want to get to know her more.
"You two have some badass signature weapons," I compliment Michonne and Daryl. "Michonne: katana. Daryl: crossbow. All Rick and I have are these guns."
"Mind you, my gun can do a lot, too," Rick interjects with a small smile.
"Let me see your gun," I hold my hand out.
Rick reaches for his gun in his holster and hands it to me. I examine it closely, flipping it from side to side, feeling it sleek, metallic surface.
"A Colt Python," I exclaim, fascinated by the gun. "Also referred to as a 'combat magnum.' A double action handgun chambered for the .357 magnum cartridge, built on the large I-frame. Pythons have a reputation for accuracy, smooth trigger pull, and a tight cylinder lock-up."
Rick turns to me, clearly impressed as I continue to examine the gun.
"Whoa, we're not takin' a test here," Daryl teases.
"That's what happens when you're a weapons specialist in the military," I reply with a smirk. "This one's a classic. I'm jealous, Rick," I say as I hand him the gun with a small smile.
"Let me see yours," Rick says as he takes the gun and sticks it back into its holster.
I reach for my gun and hand it to him. He drives with his left hand and holds my gun in his right, examining it for a moment.
"CZ P-07 Duty," he begins. "Multi-purpose arm. Compact polymer frame houses twelve rounds of .40 S&W and has an integral accessory rail for attachin' lights and lasers. An omega trigger system operates in both double- and single-action, with a decockin' lever that can be converted into a safety selector, dependin' on the operator's preference."
"Wow…" I turn to Rick who turns his eyes back on the road. "I am impressed."
"I know my weapons, too," he smirks at me as he hands me my gun.
"I feel like this drive turned into some damn lecture on guns," Daryl jokes.
"Hey, when it comes to law enforcement individuals, we gotta know our weapons," I smile in defense. "Especially our favorite ones."
Rick turns to me and nods.
"Bunch'a nerds…" Daryl mutters.
"All you know about your crossbow is how to make sticks with pointy ends!" I remark at Daryl.
"Hey, it's a lot more than that!" he defends. "Guns gotta have to be reloaded and shit."
"Yes, but they have much of a faster reloading time compared to crossbows," I say fired up, turning in my seat to face him. "When you run out of ammo, you won't have time to find sticks, sit down and sharpen them! Get outta here with your arts and crafts crap."
"Oh, here we go again…" Michonne sighs as she rolls her eyes and looks out the window. "Rick, how long is this drive?"
"We don't have long to get there," he replies with some laughter. "Another five or ten minutes and we should be there."
Daryl sticks his tongue out at me. I smile in humor as I turn around and face the front again. After a few seconds of silence, Daryl throws a small piece of paper at me. I rub my brows with a smirk.
"I'm going to hesitate the next time I have to go on an errand with you two," Michonne jests.
"We like to keep things interestin', right Michelle?" Daryl claims.
Without turning to him, I hold my fist toward him and he bumps it with his. I rest my hand back on my thigh, gazing out the window again. Another moment of silence ensues. I peer down at the ground off the road and see a chipmunk scurry up a tree.
'Oh, look, Daryl's lunch…' I think to myself humorously.
The silence continues. I lean my head back on the head rest again, closing my eyes for a moment.
"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts…" Darly begins to sing. "There they are all standin' in a row…"
"Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head," I join in and sing.
"Oh God…" Michonne sighs heavily. "Rick, let me out…"
"Give them a twist a flick of the wrist, that's what the showman said!" I finish the verse, then Daryl and I begin to sing together, dancing a bit in our seats.
"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Every ball you throw will make me rich
There stands me wife, the idol of me life
Singin' roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Singin' roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Singin' roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Roll a bowl a ball, roll a bowl a ball
Singin' roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch"
Rick places his left palm into his face and begins to laugh. Michonne tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but let out a small smile and laugh. Daryl and I continue to sing and dance in our seats comically, filling in a bit of the instrumental of the song with our voices.
Daryl + Me: I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts Me: (they're lovely)
Daryl + Me: There they are all standing in a row Daryl: (one, two, three, four)
Daryl + Me: Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head! Me: (and bigger)
"Give them a twist a flick of the wrist, That's what the showman said!" Daryl and I finish the last lyrics together.
We all begin to laugh together and Daryl and I high five each other.
"We don't need radio," I exclaim. "Daryl and I do fantastic duets."
"Damn right!" Daryl agrees as he sits comfortably in his seat.
"You two are somethin' else…" Rick comments as he smiles and rubs his chin with his index finger.
The rest of us chuckle at his remark. After a few minutes of driving, we finally arrive near our destination.
"Well, he we are…" Rick says as he drives the SUV into a small town.
Rick parks the SUV in a nearby alley way. He pulls the keys out of the ignition and we all exit the vehicle.
"Where should we head to first?" Daryl asks as he places his crossbow on his right shoulder.
"Let's head into this small plaza," Rick answers as he begins to walk toward the parking lot of the plaza.
We walk into the parking lot quietly, each of us glancing around our surroundings carefully.
"This place seems a bit deserted," Daryl comments. "Not a walker in sight."
"That makes me a bit nervous," I take a hold of my handgun and have it ready. "Keep your eyes wide open."
They glance at me in a bit of wonder but listen.
"Why, what's wrong?" Rick asks.
"When I was living in that town you found me in," I begin to explain as we make our way to the entrance of a department store. "I made sure I did my best to get rid of walkers in the area. Either by killing them myself or by one of my traps…This place looks to me as if it's being inhabited…We need to be on the lookout for whoever is residing here – they may be hostiles."
The three of them nod in comprehension. We stand near the doorway of the department store, leaning against the walls; Daryl and I to the left of the doorway, Rick and Michonne on the other right. We have all of our weapons ready in hand. Rick peers in through the glass doors, sees that it's clear, and motions us to follow him in. He opens one of the glass doors and we move in after him. The department store has multiple sections, all organized in aisles. Paper and other materials are scattered about on the floor. The only light illuminating this place is the sunlight coming in through the windows, making it slightly dim.
"Alright," Rick says to us in a low voice. "We stay in a diamond formation and stay close together."
We all nod as we continue to make our way in; Rick is walking in the front, Daryl on the right side, Michonne on the left side, and I am in the back. We stand just a few feet or so away from one another as we walk along the aisles. I turn my gaze at the shelves that make up the aisles and see that they are practically empty, other than strewn out paper, small boxes and dust. I step on a piece of an advertisement paper that reads Life is good! with a group of people hanging out, smiling and laughing. Too bad that isn't the reality.
My attention is caught by something odd on the floor in an aisle. I see what appear to be light footprints made out in dirt. Without notifying the others, I make my way through the aisle and follow the footprints. They lead toward the back of the department store at the end of an aisle where I spot a door that's slightly open. With my gun still in my hand, I carefully and quietly pull the door open and see that it's clear. I walk inside and see that it's the small warehouse of the department store. I scan the enormous department shelves and see empty boxes scattered on top of them, along with some dust and ripped newspaper. I continue to slowly make my way to the end of the warehouse, watching a rat scurry across the floor some feet away. I'm surprised to spot a trail of blood. I walk over and examine it, and see that it's fresh blood. Keeping my gun ready in my hands, I follow the trail, turning left at the end of the aisle. The trail leads to a puddle of blood, clearly fresh, and it leads to the exit door. I eye the puddle of blood while crouching a bit.
'No doubt it's fresh blood,' I think to myself. 'I better warn the others…'
Just as I was about to get up, I feel something hit the back of my head hard. I collapse onto the floor face first, landing just a foot away from the puddle of blood, dropping my gun just a few inches away. I try to get up, but the last thing I feel is someone grab me before I black out.