A/N: This one is angsty

The Walking Deth - Part IV

Here and Home - Chapter VIII

Taketh and Giveth

The inside of the trunk was boiling up like the hinges on Satan's steam room. Judging by the growing light outside, the sun had broken the horizon and the warmth that radiated through the steel into the interior was added to the warmth that was radiating from Beth's sweat slickened body.

Beth simpered at me, lashes lowered over her blue eyes that still, somehow, managed to glisten in the dim light.

My eyes trailed down over her body as she stretched, twisted and arced trying to tug her panties over her boots and draw them up to her hips.

There was something different about her. Something even more beautiful, and mesmerizing, and breathtaking than there was before.

I thought maybe I was seeing her in a new light, knowing that she had been through some heavy shit, most recently killing a man to save the pair of us. Then I thought maybe I was just deliriously ecstatic, knowing that we were finally free from Negan and his hellish hotel. But as I took in the view of her legs, and ass and hips and tits, there was something physically changed about her. She looked fuller and softer and more womanly.

"What're you starin' at." She tilted her head into my view, strands of her blonde hair loose from her ponytail drifting over my knees.

I shrugged my shoulders, and grinned. "Nothin'."

She tittered and reached to the bundled up patterned wool poncho at my side, gave it a stiff, awkward shake and tugged it over her head.

Shaking away my dazed and awed state I fumbled away at my belt buckle, finishing the job I had started of fixing it into place.

My eyes moved quickly over our limited weapons. My Stryker. My Busse. And the Colt .22.

"You want the sheathe?" I asked, nodding my head towards my Busse in her hand.

She frowned down to it. "Think I could take the gun?"

I slid the Colt we had swiped from one of Negan's men across the sand-packed carpet, and then took the knife she held out to me and slotted it away safely in its leather.

"Don't know where you're gonna stick the thing." I unwound the rag from the latch and let the trunk spring open, basking the interior in early morning light and cool fresh air.

Crawling to her knees and sitting upright in the new found space, Beth tugged up the edge of the poncho and snapped the elastic suspender against her hip with a single finger. "Built in holster."

She chuckled lightly, sweetly, as she lifted the pistol and held it against her hip, ready to slip it downwards.

I wasn't sure if I heard it, felt it, or saw it first.

Hot wet drops splattering over my face, a bloom of crimson appearing suddenly over Beth's abdomen, or and the voice yelling "There!" and the cracking of gun fire.

The world grew still and silent for a moment, my eyes locked on to Beth's stunned face. In slow and staggered motion her hand dropped to her belly, and fingered through the blood smeared there.

She dropped down before me, and the continuing gun fire brought back my senses.

Out of instinct I dropped my left hand down on to Beth's belly and pressed down on the wound. My right hand gripped around the Colt and aimed out towards the sound of the gunfire.

The more logical side of my brain told me there was no way I could fire that thing with my busted hand. Without the grip of my missing fingers I wouldn't be able to control the kickback, but the emotional side, the side that had just seen my girl shot, told me to hold that fucker strong and shoot.

With two well placed shots, I killed two of the dumb sumbitches who were bobbing their heads above the bonnets of cars.

With the whining, clinking and clunking of metal against metal as holes punched through the trunk, I knew I had to draw the fire away from Beth.

"Keep up the pressure." I yelled to her as I forced her fragile hands onto her abdomen and then leapt out of the trunk and rolled to cover behind the nearest car.

As I had hoped, the gunfire was drawn to my movement, punching holes into the undercarriage of the car I had taken shield behind.

I pressed my chest into the leaves and tiny rocks that covered the asphalt and peered across the road. I could make out three sets of boots scuffling around among the array of cars.

Holding the Colt firmly in my awkward grip, I rolled to the side of the vehicle, stood and turned to shoot over the top of the hood.

The first shot caught one of them in the shoulder, and he wailed and stumbled back. The second shot went straight through his temple, flinging his head to the side and dropping him to the ground like a tonne of bricks.

Feeling the heat of a bullet skimming past my face, I ducked down and crawled around to the next car.

There were two left. By my calculations, and I had six bullets. My Stryker was still in the trunk of the car. I had to make those bullets count.

I dove across to Hyundai to my right, hoping it would give me a clearer view of my attackers. I took to the ground and ducked my head around the tyre, to catch a flash of boots and clothing running away from me. I shot him once in the calf. The second time in the chest as he stumbled to the ground.

Wheezing and cussing the guy lifted his gun arm, raising his weapon at me. I shot a third bullet in between his eyes.

There were two left and I could hear heavy breathing on the opposite side of the car, approaching me. I jumped out towards the sound and caught the butt of a rifle in the temple. I stumbled back, taken by surprise and then charged the guy, forcing my shoulder into his guts. He fell to the ground and I straddled over him, punching him with my left hand, before lifting my right to finish him with the gun. He grabbed hold of the gun, slipping his finger into the trigger hold.

As we tugged and pulled on the weapon to get it free, he shot into the air. Once. Twice.

I drove my left elbow into his nose, and when he loosened his grip on the gun, I turned it and fired it into his face.

That was my last shot, and there was one left, I checked the rifle to see that was empty too. They must have expelled all their ammo into the trunk. And now I could hear Beth crying out.

Scrambling to my feet I saw the last guy, reaching into the trunk, he had Beth by the hair and was pulling her forward.

I pulled out my Busse, gripped the blade, tugged it back and flicked it forward.

His skull would have been a lot firmer than a walkers, and I had used my weakened right hand, but I had so much rage built up inside of me that I managed to get the blade embedded right up to the grip in the back of his skull, and he stumbled back releasing his hold on Beth and then fell to the ground.

I glanced around at the cars and surrounding grasslands, seeing if I had missed anyone and then moved quickly back to the open trunk.

They all appeared to be down, and Beth, although covered in blood, was still alert, repeating "No." over and over again whilst she looked down over her abdomen.

I tugged up the poncho to examine the bullet wound in her belly. It was off to her side, beside her jutting hip bone, but blood covered her from rib to thigh.

I rolled her to the side. No exit wound. The bullet was still knocking about inside somewhere.

I grabbed for my red rag, filthy and most likely filled with all kinds of bacteria and other nasty shit, but lacking anything clean, I forced it down on to her wound.

"You okay?" I choked, trying to regain my breath.

"It hurts." She sobbed. "Everything hurts!"

I bobbed my head up and down, feeling a little dazed and bewildered and like screaming "fuck you" to the world.

I had known someone shot in the abdomen before. He died a drawn out painful death. And that was even after being taken to a proper hospital with surgeons and operating facilities. Out here we had nothing.

If that had hit anything important ─ her intestines, her bladder, whatever other stuff girls had in there─ we were screwed.

"You'll be okay." I told her, forcing false surety into my voice.

Judging by the way her sobs had turned into squeaks; I didn't think I had been believable.

I bent down and yanked my Busse out of the guy's head, cleaning it on his shirt and slipping it back in its sheath. Then I turned back to Beth, tucked my arms under her, lifted her out of the trunk and guided her boots to the ground.

I grabbed for the crossbow, swung it on to my back and then hooked Beth's arm over my shoulder, taking the weight of her trembling body.

"Reckon you can walk?"

"I…I…I don't know." She sobbed.

"C'mon we gotta move. They ain't got no car 'ere. I reckon someone'll be back to collect 'em."

Beth gripped onto my shoulder and stumbled her feet forward, holding the dirty rag to her hip while whimpering and squeaking and drawing in quick sharp breaths.

She was taking this a lot harder than I thought she would. She was either in a lot of pain, or she was thinking what I was trying my hardest not to. That she was going to die.

I shook my head and tried to focus on getting us out of here, and to somewhere I could see to her properly.

I looked up to the grey morning sky. To the heavens above.

Think we can get one tiny fucking break?

Stumbling down the road I looked up, focusing on the large green sign further on.

As we approached the white letters became legible, and the words that were written made them gleam like diamonds among shit.

"Thank fucking Christ!" I exclaimed, with a voice strained in sudden relief.

Beth lifted her head to examine the sign I was focused on.

"A…Maternity…hospital?"

"Yeah, and only 4 miles." I grinned at her in an effort to reassure her, even though I still had my reservations about our sudden good luck. I knew it would take me at least an hour to walk there. Longer, dragging Beth, and going off road as we would have to, to avoid Negan's men.

Beth looked up at me with her dull blue eyes growing wide on her ghastly white face. "But…the sick…would've gone…to hospitals."

I shook my head. "You ain't gonna show up to no maternity hospital with a bite. It's perfect."

She loosened her grip from my shoulder and started sinking to her knees pulling me down with her and whimpering; "Please!...Please don't…take me there…please."

I tugged her back up, holding her firmly around the waist. "Why the hell not?" I half yelled into her face, trying to be encouraging, but coming off as desperate.

"I just…please…there might be…babies…there."

I started walking forward tugging her resistant body along. "If there are, you just keep your eyes closed. I'll handle it."

Beth didn't last all that long before her feet completely stopped moving and I was just dragging her across the ground, her boots leaving a trail through the leaves and ground cover.

I dipped my shoulder and let her drop gently to the ground. Then I swung my Stryker off my shoulder and used it and my Busse to take out the huddle of five walkers that had been gathering and trailing behind us; attracted to the sounds of Beth's sobs, that had now gone silent.

When they were down I collected my bolts; I only had four. I had left one back in Wally's shoulder, and now one was cracked beyond use.

I looked back up to the sky and yelled to the clouds; "Giveth and taketh fuckin' away!"

Responding to my cries, Beth looked up at me, her eyes looking heavy and weary.

"Maybe you should just leave me. I'm slowin' you down."

I screwed up my face, disgusted she would even make the suggestion. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me!" I yelled, stomping back toward her.

I pulled at her blood covered hands to look at the rag. It was already red. I couldn't tell how full of blood it was, but it felt pretty wet. I pulled off my knife sheathe and tugged my belt from its loops then tucked it under Beth's back, wrapped it around the rag to hold it in place. Even on the smallest notch it was too big, so I tied it in a crude knot, and then put my sheath back on it.

I slipped an arm under her knees and under her back, scooping her up into my arms and stumbled to my feet.

"You can't…carry me…the whole way." She protested weakly.

I readjusted her body, by balancing her on my knee, trying to distribute her weight. "Like hell I can't, girl! I ran a whole fuckin' night tryin' to get to you. I can carry you a coupla miles!"

She didn't respond. Her chin dropped to her chest, her eyes closed, her breaths went slow and steady. She was out cold.

I looked back to the sky. "Fuck You, man. Fuck you!"

From my position among the pine trees I peered out at the red brick Maternity hospital. It was an older looking single level building, hidden among overgrown grasses and garden beds.

The lot that surrounded it was spotted with around twenty idle walkers, standing still, or swaying gently from side to side as if moved by the breeze.

I eyed over the building, working out a path of approach. There was a long ramp up one side of the building leading to a service door. The path there looked pretty clear, the walkers spread far enough apart that I could weave my way through without too much trouble.

I scooped up Beth's limp body from where I had rested her against the tree. Took a deep breath and made a run for it, darting out on to the gravel drive, leaping over fallen branches and windblown trash.

Beth's body flipped and flopped and dangled about as I moved, her legs and arms hanging lifelessly, her head shaking from side to side.

The walkers had caught wind of us now, and were groaning hungrily as they turned towards as and stumbled on heavy dead feet.

I managed to slip through their fumbled grasp, using Beth's feet to knock one over as I passed, and then ran straight up the ramp to the door.

I tried the handle. Locked of course.

The walkers had made their way to the ramp now, scraping their fingers against the painted concrete as they tried to drag themselves forward.

I turned back to the door, lifted my boot and slammed it into wood by the handle trying to loosen the lock. It shifted a quarter of an inch and then slammed back in place.

I turned to the rabid and excited snarls, a few walkers had pulled themselves on to the ramp now and were dragging their way closer.

I shifted Beth's weight, holding her closer and then using all of my force booted the door open. It swung wild, slamming into the interior wall, and I leapt inside, dropped Beth to the ground and closed the door behind us, leaning against it to hold off the walkers.

They were fairly weak. There pushes barely moving the door. But the door latch was busted and couldn't hold them off. I examined the room surrounding me. A store room filled with boxes, and a trolley a legs length away.

I hooked my boot around the wheel, dragged it to the door, and flipped it on to its side pushing it against the door, and then put a few heavy boxes on top to hold it in place.

Confident it would hold, I finally let my body unclench, dropping down beside Beth. I was trembling, gasping and gulping in air and a cold puddle of sweat had collected in the middle of my back.

"You okay?" A quiet voice came from my side.

Sighing and smiling with relief that Beth was finally alert, I pulled her head into my shoulder and kissed her cold and clammy forehead. "Yeah…" I gulped in another breath of air. "Think y'… put on a few…pounds…since last I carried y'."

She dropped her eyes from mine down to her knees and smiled weakly.

"C'mon." I called standing, and then reaching down for her hand so I could pull her arm over my shoulder. "We gotta see to that wound."

The halls were dark and desolate, the air stale and dusty. It was like no one had thought to come here for safety or supplies, or if they did, they hadn't died in the process.

Addressing the problem of their being little light, I checked out the nurses station first for an emergency kit, finding a torch with working batteries and a map marked with emergency exits.

Following the map we weaved our way through the halls, passing corridors signed with 'ward' and 'birthing suite' and 'nursery'. When we passed the long window into the room filled with tiny cribs, Beth buried her face into my chest, and I kept my eyes forward and hoped there was nothing in there I would have to take care of.

We followed the map down to the theatre where I assumed everything I would need to get a bullet out and sew Beth up could be found.

The room was so dark that I though it best to go in alone, thinking dragging a body around in the dark would just take precious time that we didn't have. I guided her to a bed in the nearby recovery room and went back to the theatre. Poking around in the cupboards and draws, I found a vacuum packed kit in a large plastic bag, and brought it back to Beth.

She had pulled the sunshine yellow curtains open and now the room was glowing brightly with late morning sun. There were four beds in the room, sheets all twisted and turned as if the room had been left in a hurry. Beth's eyes were downcast and focused on the nearby crib. Empty. Thank goodness.

"Lay Back." I urged, pushing her gently back into the pillows.

I shifted the folds of bloody wool out the way, and then loosened the belt with one tug.

I slopped the red rag on the ground, saturated with blood. I would guess at the very least a pint but possibly twice that. Judging by her pale lips and translucent skin, some new blood would do her good, but there was no point in even dreamin' of that, or even begging it of god.

I examined the wound, no longer seeping, but looking mottled and grey and not at all healthy. She needed a fucking doctor, not some redneck asshole who only knew about stitching things up from getting into bar fights with his no good brother. Given, I had pulled a bullet from Merles thigh once, but the fucker had been half hanging out. I couldn't see nothing among the ragged mess of Beth's flesh.

I tore the plastic pouch with my teeth and pulled out everything I needed. Scissors, tweezers, forceps, gauze, a suture needle and thread and a bottle of sterilising lotion.

I pulled the cap off the bottle and downed a few ounces of it over Beth's whole abdomen. She didn't cry out or even flinch as I poked and prodded, just stared at the empty crib.

I rubbed my greasy hands onto the bed sheets, and then poured some more onto my hands, rubbing it up to my elbows, then picked up the forceps with my left hand.

"Brace yourself."

Without moving her eyes, Beth twisted the sheets between both hands and clenched her jaw.

I pressed the forceps into her wound and opened it half an inch, taking the tweezers in my left hand.

No good.

I switched hands putting the forceps in my right and tweezers in my left.

Still no fucking good.

I sighed and half dropped half tossed the implements to the bed. Even if I did have all my fingers, I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and every part of me was so numb, I couldn't feel my way through it anyway. My insides were clenched so tight I couldn't even take a full breath. Everything felt so pointless. So helpless.

"What's…wrong?" Beth turned her eyes towards me, dark, tired and empty.

Not wanting to speak for fear of sobbing and letting her know how shit scared I was. I wadded up the clean gauze and pushed it into her wound and then wrapped a clean bandage around it, and taped it in place. When I was done she was still watching me, looking kind of apathetic, when she should have been concerned.

"I can't do it." I muttered, splaying out my damaged hand in front of her face. "Can't use my left, can't use my right. I'm sure I'd do more harm than good."

"You're just gonna leave it?"

I looked down to the newly formed holes on the knees of my jeans, the skin underneath all grazed and dirty. "Prob'ly best I do."

"Will it…be okay?"

I shrugged and then nodded. Lying. If there were fragments in there, moving around inside, they would tear her up from the inside out.

I bit my lip trying to stop it from trembling and looked out the window, the clouds had now opened up and a light drizzle was dripping down, forming a rainbow in the sunny part of the sky.

A fucking rainbow?

The good lords sense of humour was worse than Wally's.

I felt her hand slipping into my palm, pinching it weakly. I guessed she was trying to squeeze it so I squeezed her hand back.

"Should we…stay here…a while…Rest?"

Rest in peace.

I shook my head. "Nah. I reckon Negan's men might catch on that we came 'ere. We should keep movin'."

"Where can we go?"

I shook my head and shrugged. Even if we had somewhere to go, we probably wouldn't get far. Maybe we could find somewhere quiet out in the woods, and she could just go in my arms. Laying on top of the poncho, dying the same place we had once made love.

"Maybe we could…go back to that camp…the one where…all the pigs came from…you saved that kid right?...They'll welcome…us there."

I clenched my jaw. "No. They won't."

"Sure they will…you'd be like…a hero."

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, shaking my head slowly. "No. We're not goin' there, Beth."

A silence loomed in the air. I sensed Beth's eyes on me. Searching. She knew not to press the issue. She was smart enough to figure out Negan's game, so she could figure out he had done something else to torture me.

"Reckon you…can help me change?"

I looked to her face that was turned towards the door, her eyes resting on a set of rose coloured medical scrubs hanging on a hook.

I collected the scrubs and helped her to change, moving her limp limbs about delicately, as if she were a tiny china doll. If felt like if I used any kind of force at all, she would crack under my fingers. I stripped her of everything. Sliding her Panties over her boots, pulling of her bra, removing the boots and stockings, and tossing everything she had got from Negan's hell hotel to the floor.

I wrapped her up in her new attire, the oversized linen making her look even more small and fragile, and the rose colour making her look white as the sheets she was laying back on.

"First thing we gotta do is get you some water." I told her as I tugged her boots on, and then dragged her off the bed, taking her weight over my shoulder again. Water wasn't going to keep her alive, but it was a start, I guessed.

I moved forward, and her boots dragged below her across the linoleum. Knowing she was too weak to move her legs I tucked my arms behind her knees scooping her up once more ─Maybe the last time─ and carried her out of the room.

We were walking past the nursery when we heard it. A voice. And then another. One of them sounded familiar. Maybe Troy? No too soft for Troy. Maybe Chris?

I ducked into the nursery and placed Beth cautiously on to the ground, tucking her behind a row of cribs. She lay straight on the ground too weak to even lift her head. Pointlessly, I pressed her hand on to the knife resting on her belly, and then took my bow of my shoulder. Hopefully it was only two. I could handle two. Anymore, well, what did it matter now anyway?

I lifted the bow, pressing the stock into my shoulder and peering down the sight, and stepped out towards the sound of the voices, keeping myself crouched low.

"You reckon this one? It's damn heavy, but it should fit." The familiar voice called.

"Yeah. Maybe we should've brought a third man." The other voice replied.

At least that confirmed there were only two. I crept closer trying to get the two men in my sights.

"No. They're all stumbling buffoons. Me and you are the quickest." The familiar voice again.

As my eyes rested on one of the two figures, I realised now why the voice was so familiar. It wasn't a voice I had only known for a matter of weeks. It was one I had known for years. I knew that slick black hair, school boy dress sense, and light footed gait anywhere.

I stood up straight and stumbled forward down the dimly lit hall, choking back all the emotions I was feeling, and half whimpered half yelled;

"Glenn!"

A/N: I know I'm horrible! but you need to trust me ;)

Almost there!