Chapter 14
"Michelle…Michelle, wake up!" I hear someone call out to me.
I open my eyes and sit up quickly. Carl is kneeling beside me with a frantic look on his face.
"Carl, what is it?" I ask in worry.
"It's my dad. He's not waking up!"
Panic strikes me as I glance over at Rick on the sofa. I get to my feet and rush over, kneeling beside him. I place my finger on the side of his neck and feel a steady pulse.
"Normally, he would have been up a long time ago," Carl says. "This isn't like him."
I examine Rick's eyes and see that they're moving from side to side underneath his eyelids.
"Rick…" I begin to call out. "Rick, wake up…"
I pat his face but get no response.
"What's wrong with him?" Carl asks.
"He's fallen into a slight coma," I answer in worry. "That beating he took definitely messed him up…I told him to take a break, but not like this."
"What should we do?"
"The only thing we can do is let him rest. Shit…this leaves us with one person down…we have to keep him safe."
I stand to my feet and sigh as I place my hands on my hips, staring down at Rick. Carl steps forward and grabs Rick's shoulders.
"Wake up…" he begins to say. "Wake up! Wake up!" he continues to shout as he jerks his father.
"Carl!" I say as I place my hand on his shoulder.
Suddenly, something begins to bang on the door. Carl and I freeze up and stare at the pounding door as we hear snarls from outside behind it.
"Shit," I hiss as I walk over to my holster belt.
I strap it around my hips and make sure that my gun and blade are secure.
"I'm going outside to lure them away from here," I say.
"Let me come with you," Carl says.
"No, Carl. I'm sorry, but you have to stay here to look after your dad," I reply. "The last thing we need is leaving your father in a coma condition unsupervised."
Carl looks disappointed.
"I need to lure those walkers away and kill them off quietly with my blade," I say as I take an extra magazine and blade, tucking them into my pant pockets.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Carl asks in worry.
"No need to worry. All you need to focus on is taking care of your old man," I say with a smile.
After picking up an empty white sack from the table nearby, I make my way into the kitchen toward the door that leads to the side of the house. Carl follows behind me as I begin to carefully push the kitchen table away from in front of it.
"I'll come back through this same door," I begin to explain to Carl. "You'll know it's me if I knock three times. Don't open it for anything else, you got it?"
"How long do you plan on staying out there?" he asks in confusion.
"Since I'm out there, I figure I might as well go out on a supply run."
I pry the door open and tie my hair up into a high ponytail. Just as I'm about to walk out, Carl reaches for my arm and causes me to stop and look at him in surprise.
"You be careful out there," he firmly states as he looks up at me.
"I'll be back before you know it," I reply with a smile and wink.
With that, I rush out the door. Carl watches after me as I tread along the side of the house toward the front. I turn around and make sure that Carl has closed the door. Seeing that he has, I continue to make my way to the front of the house after placing the sack over my shoulders. I stand at the corner and peer my head out; there are two walkers banging on the front door.
'Should be fairly easy,' I think to myself.
My eyes land on a rock the size of a golf ball. I grab it and make my way to the pathway leading to the front porch steps of the house. After taking aim, I hurl the rock at one of the walkers and whistle lightly at them.
"Over here," I call out.
Both of the walkers seize their banging on the door and turn their attention to me. They begin to clump down the porch steps and toward me.
"That's right…come on," I say as I begin to carefully walk backwards, luring them. 'I've got to get them as far away from the house as I can…I can't risk hostile survivors finding these recently killed walkers near the house. They'll know we're staying there.'
After some walking, I see a small driveway, which is a good half block away from the house. I turn into the driveway and continue to lure the walkers to me. I'm taken by surprise as two more walkers appear to my left.
"Ah, pinche mierda," I mutter through my teeth.
I quickly draw my large blade and lunge at the first walker coming at me. I drive my blade through its skull, causing blood to gush out. The next walker comes at me and I do the same to it and the next walker. The last walker manages to get a hold of my shirt. I push it away by the shoulder, staring at it as it snarls through its rotting teeth. Without hesitation, I dig the blade into the side of its skull, blood splattering down its neck. I pull the blade out and kick the walker to the ground. I sigh deeply as I glance around at the four dead walkers strewn on the driveway.
"Well damn…that was fun," I say as I place a hand on my hip.
I wince a bit at the bullet wound on my right shoulder.
'Gotta get this wound cleaned and dressed,' I think as I make my way toward the closest house I see.
I make my way up the front steps and to the front door of the one story home. With my gun ready in my hand, I push the door open. I bang on the wall of the doorway and wait a few seconds; no sound or sight of movement. Seeing that it's clear, I walk in and leave the door ajar. The kitchen is to my left so I head to it first. I open the old refrigerator and see that it's empty. The cabinets nearby have some canned beans and corn, so I toss them inside the white sack. From the kitchen, I've just found about four cans of food and two water bottles. I am now making my way out of the kitchen and into the bathroom down the hallway. I open the mirror cabinet and find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a roll of bandage tape, and small package of cotton pads. I place my gun in its holster and begin to take my dark green long sleeve shirt off, leaving me only in my black bra. I take the cotton pads and soak one in hydrogen peroxide. Gritting my teeth, I clean the dried up blood from the flesh wound on my shoulder. I toss the used cotton pad and get a new, taping it over the wound with the bandage tape. As soon as I see that my wound is dressed, I put my shirt back on and begin to pack the new medical supplies I've found into the white sack.
"These supplies can be good for Rick's wounds…" I say.
I place the sack over my shoulder and take my gun in my hands. With that, I make my way out of the bathroom and down the hallway to a closed door. I take a hold of the knob and push the door open, holding my gun out in front of me. Glancing around, I see that it's a bedroom. A queen sized bed with a worn out mattress is on one end and a large wooden dresser is some feet away. My eyes land on the boxes of ammo on top of the dresser and I am immediately concerned.
"Drop your weapon, missy," I hear a voice say from behind me as I feel a gun on the back of my head.
'Are you fucking kidding me?' I think as I roll my eyes and sigh.
"Slowly drop your gun!" the man orders again.
"Okay, okay, the gun is down," I say as I crouch down, place the gun on the wooden floor and hold my hands up. "No need to get violent here."
"Who else is here with you?"
"No one…it's just me."
"Good. I can make you my bitch," he scoffs.
Pissed off, I quickly turn around, grasp his arm and punch it upward on its joint, snapping it. He yelps out in pain as he drops his gun. I knee him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and causing him to lean forward. I get behind him, reach for his head, and pull him toward me.
"Who's the bitch, now, huh?" I mutter through my teeth.
After holding him in a headlock for a few seconds, I snap his neck, feeling and hearing the crunch. His body jerks a bit before I let him collapse on the floor.
"My bad…" I sarcastically say looking down at the man's body.
I pick my gun up from the floor and place it in its holster. Grabbing the man's pistol, I examine it and toss it into the sack. Knowing that the man will return as a walker, I take my blade out and drive it into the man's skull. I make my way to the dresser and take the two boxes of ammo, placing them in the sack.
"Pinche guey…his gun sucks," I mutter as I begin to look through the drawers of the dresser.
After looking through the bedroom, I make my way down the hallway and into an open bedroom. The small bed with torn up pink and purple bed sheets and dolls indicates that the room belonged to a little girl. I glance around at the stuffed animals that are scattered about the floor on a bloody pink carpet. My eyes land on the name Jamie spelled out on purple sticker letters on the dirty wall. I am immediately reminded of Elena and feel a sense of sadness. A picture frame that's laying on the small brown nightstand next to the bed catches my attention. I walk to it and pick it up. The glass of the frame is broken at the corner; underneath it is a picture of a man dressed in an army uniform with Love you Jamie, from Daddy signed at the bottom corner. The picture has Kyle Burmingham 1981-2011 at the bottom with the United States flag.
"May you and your loved ones rest in peace, soldier…" I softly say as I hold my hand up in salute.
I place the picture frame back on top of the nightstand and make my way out of the bedroom.
"Now, to head down the block to some more houses…" I say as I make my way to the exit.
About two hours have passed since I left Carl and Rick in our temporary safe house. I didn't find much in the houses that I inspected, other than a few more cans and bags of food, some more medical supplies, and an orange backpack to store everything in. I am in the basement of the last house I will be scavenging before I head back.
"Basement is empty…" I mutter as I make my way up the stairs to the main floor of the house. "I would expect this kind of place to have at least something…"
I turn the corner and head to the staircase a few feet down in the hallway.
"Spent a good ten minutes down there…Now, to head upstairs…" I sigh as I hold my gun in my hand.
I reach the top of the stairs and peer around, seeing that the hallway is clear. A closed door to a room catches my attention as it has Walker inside. Got my shoe. Didn't get me. written in chalk on it.
"Hm. Might as well let it be…" I shrug.
I head to the bedroom next door, turn the knob and push the door open. It's clear so I make my way inside. Taking a cloth near the dresser by the window, I wipe my blade and hands clean. My gaze then lands on someone sitting on the side roof of the house as I look through the open window. Recognizing the sheriff hat, I grin and shake my head.
"I thought I told you to stay back in the house and look after your dad," I call out as I climb through the open window on to the side roof.
Carl turns to me in surprise as I make my way over and sit next to him, placing the sack full of supplies behind us.
"I thought you said you'd be back in no time," Carl smartly retorts.
"Touché, sir," I say as we both grin.
Our legs dangle on the edge of the roof. I notice that he is eating from a large can of chocolate pudding.
"Where'd you find that?" I ask him.
"Downstairs, in the kitchen," he replies before eating a spoonful of pudding. "Want some?"
"Sure!" I say as he hands me the can and spoon.
"You can finish it. I've had enough," he says as he pats his belly.
"Wow, you've finished over half of it!"
"Chocolate pudding is good. It's the best thing I've eaten in so long."
"Yeah, I agree," I say after stuffing a spoonful of it into my mouth. "Why'd you come out here?"
"Two other walkers showed up at the door," he explains. "I figured I'd take care of them myself."
"Judging by that note you left at the door in there, I'm sure you did fine," I joke.
"I actually got into trouble…twice," he admits with a small laugh.
He looks down, expecting me to bash him for what he did. I eat another spoonful of pudding and gaze up ahead. The snarling of the walker in the bedroom lingers behind us as it reaches its arms out toward us.
"Good job," I say with a mouthful of pudding.
"Wait…you're not going to scold me for all that?" Carl asks as he turns to me in surprise.
"I should…but I'm not. As long as you're safe, alive…you're good."
Carl stares at me for a moment before smiling.
"I won't mention it to your dad, don't worry," I say as I scrape pudding from the inside of the can. "You're not the only one who ran into some trouble…"
"What happened to you?"
"Some dude wanted to make me his bitch," I simply say as I hold a spoonful of pudding. "I ran into him while looking through a bedroom in a house…."
"Are you okay? What did you do?" he asks in worry.
"Kicked his ass. Took his supplies…He didn't know who he was messing with," I laugh.
"I won't mention it to my dad," Carl says with a slight grin.
"Thanks!"
We continue to gaze around to the dead neighborhood in quietness.
"Michelle…can I talk to you about something?" Carl asks a bit unsure.
"Of course. What's on your mind, bud?" I say as I eat more pudding.
"It's about what's been going on between me and my dad…"
I sit patiently as I see he is serious and worried.
"I feel mad at him for not doing anything to prevent what happened at the prison," he finally begins. "He didn't do anything about the Governor the first time he was a threat…Instead, he just planted vegetables and played farmer…He couldn't protect anyone…He was supposed to be their leader…Everyone else is gone…"
I stare at him as he gazes down with a serious look on his face.
"I'd be fine if he was dead."
My hand grips the spoon hard. Dropping the spoon inside the can, I take my gun out of its holster, aim it at the walker at the window, and shoot it. It's brains splatter all over the glass and windowsill. Carl looks at me with wide eyes.
"You see that? You see what I just did?" I say pointing at the mangled walker. "That could be your dad. If he was to turn, one of us would have to do that to him. You really think you can do that? Because I wouldn't be able to."
Carl continues to look at me in surprise.
"Mentioning Shane like that last night, that was a low blow to your father," I continue to bash him. "Mentioning your mother, your sister…You don't know how it affects him when you say stuff like that. "
My head lowers as I grasp the now empty can of pudding. I feel myself trembling as I hurl the can out into the front lawn below. Carl watches me in worry and guilt.
"Put yourself in your dad's shoes," I begin to explain. "After what happened to your mom, he blamed himself…He was worried that this type of lifestyle would shape you into someone who has no sense of humanity. So what does a parent who wants to have a positive influence on his kid do? He stops acting on violence and instead does something else, which in his case, was take up farming. He wanted you to see that he wasn't being violet and that he still had his humanity…He wanted to show you by actually doing instead of just talking. As your father, he didn't want to see you growing up to be like the Governor. Do you understand what I mean?"
Carl stares down in amazement and nods.
"I didn't see it that way…" he says in guilt.
"It's okay…you were blinded by what was going on around you," I comfort him.
He stays quiet for a moment and then sighs.
"I'll be more understanding of things, now," he says.
"Attaboy," I say as I pat him on his back. "Sorry for going a bit apeshit on you."
"I deserved it," he chuckles.
I let out a small smile and glance around, seeing that the sun is going down.
"It's getting dark soon. Let's head back and check up on your dad," I say as I get to my feet.
Carl nods as he also stands up. I bend down to the sack and place it over my shoulders. Fixing my holster belt, I stare down at the roof. Suddenly, Carl steps forward and embraces me. I am surprised but hug him back.
"Thanks, Michelle…" he softly says in the embrace.
"Anytime, bud," I say with a warm smile.
We pull apart as I place my hand on his shoulder, leading him back to the open window.
It's night time. Carl and I are sitting in the dark room, trying to drift off into sleep as we watch over Rick. I stare through the darkness at Rick as he lays on the couch; his whole body is covered in pitch black darkness other than his arm. He hasn't woken up or moved much.
'Come on, Rick…' I think to myself. 'You have to get up sooner or later…'
Carl sighs as he looks up at the ceiling. I turn my gaze over to him, seeing that he's closed his eyes for a bit.
"Get some sleep, I'll watch over," I say as I tap him on the arm.
"No, I'll stay up with you," he responds quickly turning to me.
Seeing that he won't sleep, I give him a nod. We both turn our gazes back to Rick. Silence ensues other than the faint chirping of crickets outside. Suddenly, Rick's left hand twitches as he grunts softly. Carl and I react in surprise and back away slowly. We stare as we see Rick's arm lit up by the crack of moonlight as it moves. Rick is breathing heavily and slowly. Carl panics and grabs a hold of the gun I picked up earlier in the day and aims it at Rick. My eyes widen as my body tenses up, seeing that Rick falls off the couch.
"No…" I whisper as we hear him heave.
Carl begins to tear up as he and I watch Rick crawl toward us.
"Please, no…" I tear up.
His bandaged hand reaches out toward us. Carl and I begin to softly cry, not willing to believe what's happening.
'I…can't go through this again…' I think. 'I can't bring myself to kill him if I have to…'
Carl continues to whimper as he tries to hold his gun out to his father. Rick's hand takes a hold of Carl's foot, and Carl just drops the gun and continues to cry.
"I can't…I can't do it…" he whimpers as he leans his head on my left shoulder. "I was wrong…Just do it…" he continues as he keeps his neck exposed.
I close my eyes as tears flow down my cheeks.
"Carl…" we hear Rick whisper. "Michelle…"
Carl and I open our eyes and turn toward him in disbelief. We continue to hear Rick's heaving and grunts.
"Don't go outside…stay safe…" Rick wheezes.
He then turns over on his back and continues to breathe heavily, his eyes closed. Carl and I quickly crawl over to him. He lifts Rick's head in his lap and holds him close. I take Rick's right hand in my left as I caress Carl's face. We both look down at Rick as we cry softly.
"I'm scared…" Carl whispers.
He lowers his head down to Rick, placing his forehead on to his as he continues to cry. I scoot closer to Carl and place my hand on his head, planting a kiss on it.
"I'm scared…" Carl whispers again. "I'm scared…"
"It's okay, honey…it's okay…" I say as I sniffle. "Your dad will pull through…just believe in him."
Carl takes a hold of me hand and firmly grasps it as he leans on my shoulder.
"Stay strong, Carl…I know you can," I whisper to him.