Authors note: I know nothing about army bases. It just makes sense to me important things that go or could go boom would be stored in the back.
Authors warning: Inferred rape. I should have posted that warning in the last chapter. I apologize to anyone that was offended.
Michonne and Tsula were in the clinic sitting beside Rand's bed. Daryl and Waya had taken turns during the night checking on her. They'd brought her in and she'd passed out as Adrian was sewing her up. She'd sent the man and boy to the keep, had them pick out a room, take showers, change clothes and eat with them.
She let out a breath.
"Is she going to be okay, Michonne?" Tsula whispered.
"She'll be fine, Tsula. She's just sleeping."
"Okay."
Michonne didn't know how long they stayed with her, but it didn't look like she was going to wake up anytime soon, so they headed to the keep for her and Daryl's first interview of new people.
Tom Jeffers was sitting at a dining room table with his son, Mark, and eating oatmeal. He couldn't believe it. He and Mark had eaten last night until he wanted to throw up. After they'd showered. In hot water, no less. They'd gone back to their room after asking about the woman that had saved them. The black lady had told them she'd be fine. They needed to stay in their room and someone would come get them for breakfast.
Tom had no problems following her orders. She looked lethal. The sword on her back was impressive. Not as impressive as the other lady's sword, but he figured she could use it, like the other woman used hers. They'd slept in a real bed. He didn't know how long they'd slept but it was so nice, so like before, he cried. He'd gotten up at the knock on their door to see a tall Hispanic man outside. He didn't say a word, just walked down the hall.
Tom and Mark followed him and here they were. Him and his son, eating oatmeal, surrounded by the Hispanic man, two white men and a black man. The black lady came in with a young Hispanic girl and sat at his table.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"What?"
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"I…don't know. Ten?"
"How many people have you killed?"
His mouth dropped open. He pulled Mark from his chair and put him in his lap.
"I've never killed anyone."
"Even now?" one of the white guys raised his voice. He had dirty blond hair, a biker vest, torn jeans and carried a crossbow.
"Even now. It was me and my neighbors. Jack had a cabin in the woods. We went there. Him, his wife and two girls, me, my wife and my son, Mark. We hadn't seen any other people in years. We killed those things, but we were in the mountains. We didn't see a lot. Marlene, Jack's wife, had put in a small garden before this. She liked fresh food. We were fine. Then some men showed up. They showed up asking for help. They said it was worse now. Jack didn't like the look of them, but they had two girls with them. We gave them some food. They shot out the windows. They shot." He stopped talking and cleared his throat. "They shot everyone. Mark and I were near the back of the cabin when it started. We left," he cried a little. "We left. They found us, tied us up and used us to haul the stuff they stole. Then that woman? She just rounds us up a few weeks ago and puts us in a tent. We went to another place, dropped off two of the four girls and woman that were hostages." He raised his voice. "They. I can't even call them men. They." The black lady held up her hand. "We dropped them off with more women, most of the camping gear, food, guns and the donkeys. The woman kept part of it. We weren't allowed to stay. The woman? Said we needed to be interviewed. If we can stay we need to help. If we can't stay she'd find a house for us, close."
"We're not dicks," Mark whispered.
Adrian wanted to laugh at the little boy. Only Rand would be able to get a young boy telling them they weren't dicks. They looked harmless enough. The man was white, maybe late forties, blond hair and brown eyes. He looked pretty rough. Adrian thought the man was going to eat the table, he practically inhaled the rice and vegetables they'd put in front of him. The boy had been the same.
The boy, he looked to be around ten, had the same hair and eye color as the man. He looked frightened. Of everything. After hearing the story, he was sure the boy was.
Michonne stood up. "Wait here." She nodded to Daryl and they left the room.
"We're not using those questions," Michonne stated when she and Daryl walked outside the keep.
"Yeah. They are some stupid ass questions," he admitted.
"They look alright."
"Seem to be. Thought that guy was gonna have a heart attack when you asked him about killin' people."
"I'd never killed anyone until this." Michonne raised an eyebrow.
"Me, either. Still, hasn't killed anyone."
"But he can kill walkers. Rand wouldn't have made it back with them if he couldn't."
"Makes him better than them assholes in Alexandria."
Michonne sighed. It did make him better than those assholes in Alexandria. If she was honest with herself? They needed the help. She paced and thought what she'd do if she really ran this place. He didn't give off any bad vibes. The boy? He'd be scarred for life. They were all scarred for life. "What do you think?"
"Seem to be alright. Probation? Give 'em a month, they don't help, take 'em to Bridgewater, put 'em in a house. Shit. Ain't like they could take this place over."
"Probation. Okay."
They went back to the dining room to see the man, with the boy still in his lap, and the others surrounding them. Not close, but not far.
"You can stay. You and your son have to help. After a month, if it doesn't work out, we'll take you to a house, give you some food and seeds."
The man started crying. "Thank you."
"Is she gonna be alright?" the boy asked.
"She'll be fine."
Michonne wanted to laugh when the boy smiled. "Good. She cut a walkers head off with the sword. Will she teach me?"
The man laughed, cried and hugged his son. "Tom. Tom Jeffers. My son, Mark," he introduced them.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty," she heard Seth's voice next to her when she opened her eyes.
"How long?"
"A few days. We checked on you. To make sure you didn't die."
She groaned in pain as she tried to sit up. She looked around and saw a light on next to her bed, casting the rest of the room in shadows.
"Time?"
"Late," Seth moved behind her and helped her sit up against the wall "Here," he put a cup of water in her hands and she downed it. He let out a breath and filled it up again. After three, she put the cup in her lap.
"Shit. I feel like shit."
"And you look it. Warmed over."
"I need a shower."
"Yes, you do," he drawled.
"Fuck you, man," she retorted.
"You have a fan," Seth smirked.
"What?"
"You have a fan. Mark Jeffers. He wants you to teach him how to use a sword. To cut off walker heads."
She leaned her head against the wall. "Michonne and Daryl okayed them. Good. I don't think they're dicks."
Seth laughed softly. "They aren't. Mark told us they weren't."
"The boy or the man?"
"The boy. You didn't know their names?" he sounded incredulous.
"No. Didn't ask, didn't give. If they weren't staying, why bother?"
"Hm. Interesting. They've been very helpful. Tom was an accountant. Michonne turned inventory over to him."
"Finished?"
"Yes. The base is next. Since you're now up, we'll leave tomorrow."
She sighed. "We need to wait a few days. I need to eat and get some real sleep."
"You're not going. Michonne already made the call. You and she are staying here with Tsula, Mark and Tom. We're taking Daryl with us."
She laughed this time. "Really."
"Really. You said she was in charge, Rand. She's been holding this place down for when you got back." He sat on the side of her bed. "We'll be fine. Daryl can take care of himself. I think he's tired of playing two men and a truck. Hell, we all are. How many?"
She laid back down. "I'll give my report tomorrow, Lieutenant."
He nodded and got off the bed and turned the light off before he left.
Tsula squealed making Michonne look up from her breakfast. Rand was walking over to the table with a plate, dressed in her 'Days of Yore' black shorts and blue t-shirt. She sat down with a full plate of hash browns and started eating.
"Morning," she said after she ate half.
"Mornin'. You look like shit," Daryl told her.
"Feel like it. Tom. Mark," she nodded to them.
"Thank you," Tom gave her a tremulous smile.
She shrugged a shoulder. "They were dicks."
Tsula nodded before she launched into a detailed accounting of what they'd done while she was gone. Rand was nodding and asking questions that Tsula and Mark answered, almost like they were trying to one up each other. After she was finished eating Mark took her plate and ran off in the direction of the kitchen.
"Tom? If you don't mind?" Rand asked.
He quickly excused himself and took more dishes from the table. "Mark and I have KP. Just leave the rest. We'll be back to get them." He smiled at her again before leaving.
She sipped the coffee that Waya had pushed in front of her and sighed. "There were six. I dropped off two girls and a woman a few days south of Tom's cabin. I gave them pretty much everything the dicks had stolen. From what I can tell from Lila, the woman, they were up and down the Trail."
"Smart if you think about it," Waya observed.
"Yes. I did, actually. It's long. Policing it would take time. Something I don't want to waste. But," she sipped again, "they won't be doing it anymore."
"The women?" Adrian asked.
"I saw a few more at their camp. They let us stay the night but were very clear; no men. I didn't offer, they didn't ask."
Michonne nodded. "The base run is still on."
Rand grimaced. "I heard, General. It's a good call. If you want to go, you should go."
Waya was in the back of the truck with Michonne and Adrian leaning against the walls, trying not to fall over. He was shocked Michonne wanted to come. He almost laughed at the look of relief on her face. She didn't like moving all of the crap they'd taken either. It was a good call on her part to have Daryl ride with Seth. Yes, she was astute. It's why he backed Rand when she'd told them Michonne was in charge while she was gone. Or she didn't come back.
Michonne was a formidable person on her own. She didn't want to lead. Whatever happened at her last place? It hadn't been good. And whoever just let her walk away? Idiot. The same with Daryl. No one talked much of their last places. Or their losses. Except Tom Jeffers. He'd had to. He hadn't seen much of what happened after the spread. Smart. Cabin in the mountains.
"You know how to drive one of these?" Seth asked as they got in the cab.
"Yeah."
"When the tank's empty we'll fill it up and Adrian and I will switch out. We need another one of us that knows how to get there," he stated as he started the engine.
Daryl thought it made sense and looked at the map they'd been using. "Marks?"
"Car jams. I thought it would be a good idea. In case we needed to go back."
Daryl did think it was a good idea and huffed. Damn. They'd needed them at the prison.
They didn't say another word until they stopped to fill up the truck then Adrian got in the driver's seat. "It's a straight path to the base from here, if you'd like to go to sleep."
Daryl nodded, put his head back and closed his eyes. He opened them again when Adrian called his name. He sat up, wiped his eyes and looked around. "We're almost there," he grunted before he pulled off the road.
"Why you stoppin'?"
"So we can solidify the plan," he said as he got out. Daryl did the same. He looked at Michonne when they got in the back of the truck. She looked as tired as he felt. But kinda excited, too.
"The munitions and fuel are at the back of the base." Seth had done a mock up map and marked it with 'X's. "Most of the guys that stayed here were single. And they drank. Something. Beer, scotch, tequila. We're going to throw hand grenades at the houses," he pointed them out. "By the time we reach the end of one block of housing we should hear explosions, if not before. Then, we'll head back, take what we can carry and leave. Everyone ready?"
"Seth, a few others and I, started emptying out the petrol tanks, just in case we needed to leave. We got most of it before the base lost power. Diesel and regular. We'll take the regular first, but we would like some diesel. Depending on how many weapons we can take, we'll need another truck or two," Adrian added. "Two people start with the petrol, while the others take the weapons."
Michonne nodded. "Daryl can go with you and Seth, Adrian. Waya and I can do the gas. When we finish we'll find you. Waya can get us there."
"Very well," he acknowledged at Waya's nod.
"How many people?" Michonne asked.
"When we left we had ten. Myers is dead. The man opened the gates, shot a gun and started screaming 'Come and get me, you assholes," Seth rolled his eyes. "We're pretty sure he's dead. The rest of us were in the chow hall."
"I'd recommend just shooting anyone we see, if they're alive or dead," Adrian said.
"Why?"
"Let's just say, I don't believe the interviewing committee would find them to be Castle Community material."
"Yeah. Probably not. Myers wasn't the only one that was bat-shit. He's the only one that acted on it. Greenbaum was just a dick," Seth sneered.
"Best to assume anyone outside of us are dicks," Adrian warned.
"Good to know," Waya commented.
Michonne tried not to flinch when she heard the first explosions. Waya, Daryl and Seth took turns lobbing hand grenades out of the back. When the first house blew up Adrian calmly drove down the street. After the street had been bombed, it reminded her of the prison, he floored it to the back of the base where she and Waya got out of the truck. Seth assured them the doors were open.
She grinned at the man when she found out Seth wasn't lying. When they walked in they were in luck. It had a truck in it. They found all of the gas using a flashlight Waya had brought.
"Good," he whispered. It took them half an hour to load. Waya jumped in the driver's seat and rammed the door he'd closed after they'd gone inside. It didn't take them long to get to the munitions part of the base. So far, so good. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Daryl whistled silently at the crates Seth and Adrian had stacked up. "I was a boy scout. Always prepared," Seth smirked. "Let's start loading."
The three of them had loaded their truck and they still had more they could take. Seth froze and put his finger to his lips.
"Come on out, Ryerson. I have your buddy," Daryl heard a guy yell. "You don't go to the john without him."
Seth motioned for him to stay behind the crates as he stepped out.
Waya thought the plan, while crude, was going well. It was almost like his army days. They drove to the depot and he pulled up in front of their truck.
"Too good to be true," he whispered. He saw Michonne nod her agreement. They quietly got out of the truck and she killed a couple of walkers. When they got close they heard voices.
"…in the United States Armed Forces. We are sworn to protect the United States and its citizens. You and limey here, took off. You left your post, Lieutenant. The limey? I can understand. He'll stand trial by a jury of his peers. You, Lieutenant, are summarily court martialed. By me. Your only peer left. And I have a higher rank than you, Lieutenant. I'm a Captain. I may not be some big bad ass Green Beret, but I still outrank you."
Michonne looked at Waya before she ducked her head inside a little. She saw Seth standing with his hands up but no Daryl, Adrian or the bat-shit crazy. Before she could do anything else an arrow whizzed from the back and disappeared. The next thing she heard was a gunshot and the bat-shit crazy dropped to the ground with an arrow in his chest.
"He always did like the sound of his own voice," Adrian huffed as Michonne stepped inside the building and watched him put the gun in his belt. "We'll need to hurry."
Seth and Adrian went toward the rest of the crates. Waya just shrugged and went inside. Michonne followed before Waya suggested she stay by the door for more bat-shit crazy and walkers. She could do that.
"That was some shit, 'Chonne. We shoulda done one of them," Daryl huffed from the front seat of the truck they were in. Waya, Seth and Adrian were each driving one and he made sure they were in sight at all times. "We coulda. Mighta stopped the Governor."
"We didn't know the layout, Daryl," she responded.
Aside from the bat-shit crazy and walkers it had gone smooth. "Bob said he'd been in the army. He knew. Fucker," he huffed.
"I don't think Rick would have agreed. Or the council."
Daryl thought of what almost happened at the school. "Adrian."
"Cool as a cucumber."
"Seth, too."
"Somehow, I don't think if we'd done a run on a base it would have gone so smoothly."
"Probably right." He paused. "We gotta good place, 'Chonne."
"We do. And good people."
"You don't wanna run it? If you tell Rand, she'll let ya."
"No, Daryl, I don't want to run it. Do you?"
"No. Fine like I am. Glad we're done playing movin' company."
"Me, too." She paused. "'Chonne'?" she repeated her question from a few days ago.
"Mind?" he grunted again.
She ignored his question.