I'm back and for one week only I'm cramming as much of this story into your gullets as you can hold! Unless of course you've all forgotten and/or gotten sick of reading this now that the show is back...so...either way, here's a new chapter.
Chapter Thirty-Five: Taureau-Trois-Graines
**The Lieutenant**
It was eerie to see the world without people, without the infected even.
He was sure there were some lingering around in places, here and there, stragglers, but there was nothing. No animals, nothing.
Driving down the highway, mindful of the fact that there was a dangerous group somewhere in the wasteland that had become Georgia, he allowed himself time to think.
No wonder people around the convent were beginning to think about their future now, the immediate threat of infected seemed to have come to a standstill, now he was thinking about what comes next. Winter, he supposed, was their biggest threat in the long run. If they could wait out the group that threatened them, they would have to worry about saving up enough food to feed all the mouths.
But it wasn't just the immediate future, he wondered about things in the long run. Without proper medicine, without proper doctors and surgeons the elderly wouldn't last, but even worse, medicine would run out eventually. Simple things like antibiotics and painkillers would eventually run completely dry.
Milton seemed smart, but he wondered if the man could create medicine if he had the right ingredients.
What the hell even went into antibiotics? Penicillin, he knew that, but it wasn't just little balled up pieces of mould one shoved in their mouth. There had to be more to it, some kind of chemical, egg-head stuff that evaded even his moderate amount of knowledge.
Lafayette wondered if any pharmacists survived the end of civilization. He was sure they'd know.
Turning at a main crossing between highways, he slowed the SUV, knowing that the trees at the crossroads would make for good coverage for anyone looking to ambush survivors. There was no option but to go on, but he still didn't like it, driving blindly.
The Middle East was like that too. Small desert villages, where children would run out and chase after the transports could easily conceal even one man with an IED strapped to his being or a vehicle parked alongside the road could easily be the cover for a dangerous threat.
Thinking of the war, he glanced into the rear view mirror, studying the deaf Marine with them.
It must be hell, having no way to communicate with the outside world.
He wondered how painful the isolation was for the young Marine.
In the back the Marine sat against the driver's side door, face pressed against the window, eyeing everything and anything but those who were occupying the SUV with him.
Glancing beside him to where Carol was sitting quietly, he smirked.
"We should take a detour," he teased. "Go see Otis Redding's burial place. I think it's on private property, but doesn't make much of a difference now."
She smiled softly.
"Who's that?" Glenn asked from the back.
"Looks like nothing's going to change, everything still remains the same," the Cajun belted out, causing Carol to laugh.
"Is he ignoring me?" Glenn asked Michonne who sat beside him with a small grin.
Whistling the solo, the Lieutenant continued to playfully ignore the younger man.
"I always wanted to see Graceland," Michonne said suddenly. "If we're taking a detour, may as well just keep going until we hit Graceland, then maybe on to the Alamo and then on to Hollywood."
"I always wanted to shop on Rodeo Drive," Carol said.
"Think they'd miss us?" The Lieutenant asked. "If we took a little roadtrip?"
"What's Graceland?" Glenn asked.
"Really?" Michonne demanded softly.
"If he asks what the Alamo is I'm going to stop this vehicle and he can walk," the Lieutenant stated.
"I remember the Alamo," Glenn grumbled without a hint of irony, which actually made it sadder to the others. "We learned about it in high school. That was the one where Stonewall Jackson earned his nickname, right?"
Everyone was silent for a moment, before Carol pointed out sweetly, "that was the Battle of Bull Run, honey, and it was a different war."
"Kids," the Lieutenant teased.
"How about a story, Lieutenant?" Carol asked. "Pass the time?"
"Or you could put a CD into the player," Glenn suggested.
"From the—" the Lieutenant stopped short as a Humvee pulled out behind them on the highway, pulling out of a driveway and parking across the highway so that nothing could pass. He eyed the road ahead and slammed on the brakes in time to avoid T-boning another heavy looking SUV, loaded down with men.
On either side of the highway the ditch was too steep for him to drive in to get by, but it didn't matter anyways, the armed men were already piling out of both vehicles approaching them.
Eyeing the men in front of their vehicle, the Lieutenant sighed as a large, broad shouldered, hillbilly type spit some brown chew stained spittle out and shouted at them.
"I'm assuming he wants us to get out," Michonne said.
Taking in the six men who piled out of the SUV in front of them and quickly checking on the four that came out of the Humvee to the rear, the Cajun nodded. "Okay."
Steeling himself for a fight he knew was coming, the Lieutenant opened his door and stepped out as the others did the same, a pistol in hand.
"Throw your weapons down," the burly man commanded. "You lot are trespassing on our land."
Taking in the numbers of men that outweighed his own, the Cajun decided it was best to just go along with things for the moment.
"Highway's no longer public property, huh?" He asked, carefully dropping the 9mm pistol he had at his hip and the combat knife he had strapped to his calf. He didn't think it was a good sign that the only soldiers in this group were men, didn't like the way the greasy, scrawny man beside the burly, hairy one eyed Michonne and Carol as he scurried over to collect their weapons and pat them down for others.
As Lafayette was blessed with the same, uncomfortable sensation of being patted down by the human pimple, the hairy leader spoke again.
"You military?" He asked.
"Just a fashion victim," he returned evenly, thankful that the greasy man avoided patting him down thoroughly, missing half of the many pockets on his pants, missing the tiny, almost pointless Swiss Army knife he kept around for picking splinters out with the tiny tweezers they held.
"Look, we don't want trouble," the man said. "But you did cross our border, so we can't just let you stroll on out again without payment."
"Last time we were through this way this road didn't belong to anyone," Lafayette said.
"We just migrated," the greasy fellow said, shoving him hard towards the hood of their SUV.
Doubled over the hood of the SUV, his ribs paining him more than they ever had, the Lieutenant eyed Carol and Michonne who kept calm, placid faces, despite the ten, dirty men, who surrounded them.
Noticing the greasy fellow once more missed the small knife in his pocket on his second pat down, Lafayette came up with a quick solution to everyone's problem.
"You part of a bigger group?" He asked from his vulnerable position, hoping to God the men didn't decide to replay Deliverance while his ass was sticking out.
"We have more guns, if that's what you're asking," the burly man said intimidatingly.
"Look," Lafayette began. "It's just us and we've been driving back and forth in Georgia for nearly two weeks now. We have nothing but what's in that vehicle."
"And?"
Carefully pulling away and up from the hood of the SUV, the Lieutenant turned to speak with the man. "Can we…my people don't eat much, we can help you out some."
Stopping by Michonne, the greasy man ran a hand up her bare upper arm and smiled. "We don't need no more cock in our camp, just something dark and warm."
From where he stood, the Cajun could see Michonne tense, her nostrils flaring in disgust.
"You sure do have pretty skin," the man whispered to her. "I bet you taste like dark chocolate."
"Ingram!" The large man commanded, offering Lafayette a slimey smile. "Sorry, he gets over excited sometimes, we ain't had much fun lately."
"I understand the need to relax."
Smiling, the man grunted and turned his eyes over the women again.
It discomforted Lafayette how much attention the men were paying to Carol and Michonne, he didn't like it, more than not wanting a fight, he didn't think he'd be able to forgive himself if 'that' happened to any woman under his watch.
He'd rather die than see that happen.
"Tell you what," the man said. "We could always use extra guns and hands to hold them guns. You want to avoid the price for trespassing, you come join up with us, we can make use of all of you."
Taking one last look at the odds of fighting back, before committing himself to one hell of a scheme, he realized that there was no chance five of them, weaponless could take on ten armed hillbillies who – at best – understood which end of the gun to point.
His best bet would to be to go with them, count their numbers, before committing himself to a final plan.
Goddamn his ribs weren't up to it, he just wanted to make a quick run and head home to bed.
Finding no other options, he nodded. "We could use the friends."
As they were rounded up by the scraggly crew of men with beer guts and shotguns, Lafayette carefully reached up and yanked hard on his dog tag, dropping it slowly to the ground, mindful of the man with the gun at his back who was too busy eyeing Carol and Michonne.
Daryl was a good enough tracker, if they came after them, he'd see the skidmarks the men's vehicles left, hopefully the sun would be shining enough for him to catch sight of the dogtag.
Making sure he was behind Carol as they were shoved and loaded roughly into their own SUV, the Lieutenant leaned in to whispered to her.
"Stay close to me, do as I do," he said. It wasn't the comfort he wanted to offer her, but he needed to manipulate a few minds first.
"Sorry about the ambush," the burly man said as they were packed back into their SUV, the hairy hillbilly at the wheel. "We're on the lookout for someone who crossed us."
Eyeing the man who sat beside the burly fellow in the front who was fiddling around with his darling Marie in a ham fisted manner, with a somewhat disdainful look, the Lieutenant tried hard to maintain his simple-minded role. He felt like some good ol' boys had kidnapped him for a weekend of hunting, burping, drinking, farting and fishing.
It certainly smelled like they'd been drinking, farting and fishing already. He supposed without women or a keen sense of smell the men just didn't find bathing necessary.
"Man or woman?"
"Man. Stole some things that belong to us, killed a few of our men."
"He dangerous to everyone or just your people?"
"Everyone, he's the type of man who has no respect for anyone or anything."
"I know the type, haven't seen anyone in nearly a month though." The Lieutenant said.
They drove on, down a multitude of grid roads and backwoods cattle trails, if he wasn't observant he'd say it was because these men knew the area well, but the small pieces of tattered red rags that fluttered on stop signs and in trees seemed to be the breadcrumbs that marked their path.
"So," the burly man grunted from the front seat, eyeing them all in the rear view. "Which one of them ladies is yours?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Where we come from, women are scarce, a man's gotta lay claim pretty damned fast," the man went on.
Clearing his throat, he pointed to Carol at his right. "This one." He didn't know if laying claim to her would prevent anything from happening, but he hoped it may sway the hillbilly's enough to leave her alone. Though it didn't make him feel any less worse about leaving Michonne hanging in the wind. He had to figure out a way to keep the men from both women, but he supposed loyalty to Daryl made him a little more protective of Carol.
"Little old for you, ain't she?" The other man asked, giving him a horse laugh.
The Lieutenant shrugged. "Still the most riveting thing I've ever laid eyes on. You boys from this area originally?" He asked, hoping to change the subject. When he got no answer, he tried again. "Where are you taking us? Your place?"
"Our camp." The burly man said. "So what about you, pretty darling?" He addressed Michonne who sat huddled in the very back of the SUV with Glenn. "Any man lay claim to you?"
"You seem awfully interested in our women." The Lieutenant broke in.
"Just making conversation," the man returned.
Glancing over to Kowalski who sat silent and unsure on his left, the Lieutenant decided he'd need to fill him in somehow, even if it was just to let him know about the men and their interest in the women.
Without writing a book, he decided to just trace one word on the upholstery of the seat in front of them.
Kowalski's eyes widened only a little as he perceived it, before he dipped it head once in acknowledgement.
"We're from Louisiana originally," the Lieutenant made idle conversation. "Well, I am, met my people on the road somewhere near Texarkana, we kept on moving together, lost a lot on the way." He hoped throwing out Texarkana would encourage the men to open up a little in camaraderie.
"Arkansas?" The man asked.
"Yep."
"Well shit! You come from our neck of the woods!" He exclaimed.
"Really? Well, not me surely, I was just passing through, but small world either way."
"Even smaller now," the man agreed.
Finding a sudden ease with the man, the Lieutenant decided to ride it out in the hopes for leniency until he could come up with an escape plan. "Met a few decent folks out in Arkansas before we left. We had hoped the seaports here on the East coast would still be open, but…there's nothing anymore."
"Yeah, things are rough," the other man said.
"I'm Vancoughnett, by the way," he said.
"I'm Pete, this is Roscoe."
"Hiya," Roscoe said.
"So, you're from Arkansas, what brings you to the Empire State of the South? Other than hunting down a man who did you wrong?"
"Just scavenging for odds 'n ends." The man said.
Ahead of them, the Humvee that had been leading the way, slowed, before pulling over on the dirt road, their SUV following suit as well as the other that was bringing up the rear.
Seeing no sign of a camp, nor any civilization, the Lieutenant felt his blood freeze, before that calming numb that came with the realization of death spread over him. Of course they weren't all going to the men's camp, he supposed they only wanted the women after all.
Carefully, he pulled the small knife from his pocket, as the men in the front piled out and he tucked it under Carol's thigh quickly as Pete opened the back door on the driver's side, Roscoe holding the passenger side in the sights of Maria.
"Time to get out," Pete commanded, levelling his gun on them. "Just you boys."
Kowalski glanced over at the Lieutenant, who nodded to the young Marine and slowly they emerged from the vehicle, finding four other men approaching them with guns raised. Glenn scrambled out of the back and joined them.
"Come on," Pete said with a queer grin. "Let's take a walk in the woods. Don't need the women getting their feathers all ruffled."
Deciding to try to continue playing dumb, the Lieutenant asked softly, "why?"
"Walk." Pete stated, shoving him in the direction of the woods.
Staggering a little from the shove, Lafayette led the way down into the ditch, towards the woods. He glanced back once to find Carol and Michonne gazing out the windows of the SUV, watching with grim faces as they were forced into the forest.
Taureau-trois-graines: His name means bull with three testicles. This loa is a product of the fanciful imagination of the people in Haiti and is considered a Creole loa. He is the great loa of the Jacmel region. His appearances are terrible; people possessed by him are seized with destructive rage and create havoc all round unless appeased by the offer of a handful of grass. This they munch at once. During trance, they bellow ceaselessly.
No thanks for this chapter, because I'm an ungrateful punk who wants to upload this chapter and hit the hay. I'm tired from my trip to South Amnesia (all I got was this stupid ax wound), anyways, more chapters this week and such. Unless you're getting sick of this story series, then I'll have to end it and weep.