Chapter 43 "Farther"
Day 100; Group A&B
Gone: was the stress of being alone. Gone: was the insecurity in having a small group. Gone: was the fear everyone beloved had died.
Returned: was the warmth of friends and family. Returned: was the ability to smile and not feel guilty. Returned: was the idea things could be peaceful again.
Families were stitched back together, and friends were given hope again. New people were shown how strong faith and trust could be, and that it was important to remain hopeful that the people you loved could survive, even with the odds stacked against them.
As had been established the day before, the group's priority was to find a permanent home. They needed to stop moving, and to get a place they could be safe at forever. Surely, somewhere out there, whether it was West Little Rock or not, there was a place they could call home.
Because of how large the group was now, they had stayed in a farmhouse not far from the road they were on the night before, which was easy to clear out.
As they rose, they were delighted to see that it hadn't been a dream; they were back together again. Sadly, the world around them hadn't been a dream. That was all too real.
So much had been accomplished today. A new map had been found, and they traveled over one hundred miles — far over halfway to Little Rock, Arkansas. They still needed more food to compensate for the larger numbers and the constant traveling. Really, their only hope was that Allan hadn't lied or been wrong — that West Little Rock was there. If it wasn't, they had no hope. There was nothing to move on to.
As the group slept in the couches, or on sheets, or even just on the cold, hard floor of a large farm house, the wind blew against the building. It rushed through the cracks of windows or doors, making a loud high-pitched whistle; like the ghosts of their pasts, it raged on throughout the night as they forced themselves to get some rest.
Taylor sat on the roof of the farmhouse in an oversized windbreaker — "perfect for an obese woman going to Walmart in Louisiana," as Lyrik had joked.
As the night dragged on, Sarita was awoken by her bowels, which insisted they had to make a movement, and quickly. When she remembered the only toilet in the house was filled to the brim with other peoples' waste, she groaned, though she did it as quietly as she could, trying not to wake up those around her. She snatched a roll of toilet paper as she hastily and aggravatedly made her way outside into the night.
"Tay!" she whisper-yelled up at the roof as she closed the door behind her. "Taylor, it's me: Sarita!"
"Sarita? What are you doing?" he asked, peeking his head off of the ledge of the roof.
"I've got to use the bathroom."
"Now?"
"Yes! I need you to- ugh!" she groaned as her stomach growled, ready to go. "You have to cover me."
"Okay," he shrugged. "You got it."
She made her way to the treeline around the backyard of the house, which was much like the old Greene farm in that it was clear of trees for about a half mile or so all around it.
The strong man watched his Indian companion waddle her way out, trying desperately to hold in her bodily functions. He couldn't help but snicker at her a bit.
She squatted down, her underwear strewn to the side and her nightgown held up in her arms, and released. She moaned slightly at the relief, happy that she hadn't soiled herself, and that the feeling was so rewarding.
Taylor kept the sights of his rifle locked on her, but did his best to not look at too much. He neither wanted to look at something private, or to be disgusted at seeing an action he'd rather not bare witness to.
Then, gunfire could be heard in the opposite direction, out on the road near the front of the house. It was loud and rabid, and it distracted Taylor. He was conflicted; a part of him wanted to go and help them. He was happy to see there were even more humans around, but he knew that if they were firing like that, they were either stupid, careless, or in more trouble than just one man could lend a hand to fixing.
Sarita, too, was slightly distracted by the gunfire, thinking something had happened with Taylor she hadn't caught. As she looked up at the house, though, she realized he wasn't a part of it. It was all coming from the town.
Taylor kept his rifle up, trained on the road leading up to the farmhouse. He wasn't sure what might happen, but if the fools shooting rushed here for safety, he would have to quickly evacuate everyone.
The woman squatting in the woods sighed and put her head back down, getting back down to business. She heard a crackle from behind her and she jumped, but failed to get to her feet and she fell down face-first. She struggled for her underwear and did her best to slip them on as she rose.
"Taylor!" she wailed, hoping he would get whatever was behind her off of her back. She then realized she had never even looked at what it was. The one-armed woman turned and realized that three walkers had sneaked up on her, likely attracted to the gunfire, or perhaps her own noise. One of which, was a child. A young boy, no older than ten, was approaching her with two taller walkers, who could easily have been the boy's parents.
The strong man on the roof turned to see the biters approaching Sarita, who lay on her side holding a pair of blue panties, staring frozen up at the walkers.
"Sarita!" he yelled as loudly as he could to her, trying to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. "Move!"
She struggled to get up, cursing her stump arm, and she wailed again. "Shoot them!"
Taylor bit his lip in concentration, but he accidentally took down the walker farthest from her, the motherly one, meaning to get the one nearest, which was the child, but missing due to the shambling of the foul creatures. He sighed and reloaded the gun.
She used everything she could, all of the might in her, pushing herself to get up, despite accidentally putting way too much pressure on her amputated arm.
Somehow, despite it all, she had made it to her feet. She had rose, and as she collected herself, she smiled. She could make it. She could run, and Taylor would take down the other two walkers.
Teeth, vile and cruel, sunk into her bad arm before she could sprint off to the house. They tore into the damaged muscle, undoing all of the recovery the woman had suffered through, and invalidating everything she had worked for since the beginning of the outbreak.
She screamed in awful pain, shrieking into the night. Taylor dropped his rifle slightly, and stifled a sound of disbelief. It didn't last long, though, as he quickly lifted his gun and dispatched of the farthest walker, and then he lowered it and with stunning aim in the intensity of the moment, he managed to miss Sarita and get the child walker right in the head.
Before jumping off the roof and running to Sarita's aid, he used the back of his rifle to bust open the nearest window and he shouted into it, "Everyone get up and get ready to go!"
In the room, Allan and Malcolm jumped into action, quickly slipping on shoes or getting dressed as best they could before grabbing their stuff and splitting off into the house setting to awaking everyone.
As Taylor sprinted for his close friend, she clutched her arm, wailing and weeping. Sarita had no idea how she should be feeling, truly, other than in pain from the intense agony of being bitten again. It was worse than she remembered, by a thousand degrees.
"Sarita!" he bursted, throwing his gun to the floor as he reached for the woman with tears in his eyes. "You're gonna make it," he reassured her as Malcolm, Shawn, and Allan ran to help. Rushing to help her, the muscular man ripped his bag off from his shoulder and dug through it, finally finding a butcher's knife. It wouldn't work as well as a hatchet or a saw, but there was no time to get one of them.
"Don't," she said weakly, doing her best to raise her arm and push away the blade. "I've lived long enough. I'm done now." Her breathing began to slow, and it became difficult for her to keep her head up. "Just, let me, turn," she breathed sadly before passing out from shock and blood loss.
They all stared at her in shock, unsure of what to really do. "Chop it off already!" Allan yelled.
Taylor looked to Malcolm with concern. They knew how hard things were for her. It took her ages to recover from her amputation last time. They knew she was weak. She was smart, though. She always knew exactly what she wanted.
The two stared sadly between themselves and their dying friend. If they had been bitten twice, they're not sure they would want another chance, either.
Malcolm shook his head no as he considered. He felt like he knew what Sarita said was how she truly felt. She wouldn't want to be a burden again. She didn't want to have a third chance when so few had hardly been given one.
Taylor nodded his head, and lowered the knife.
"You can't be serious," Allan said, beginning to search his bag for a weapon to amputate her arm with himself.
Taylor looked up, quickly grabbing his gun and pointing it directly at Allan's skull. "You do it and I'll put you down for good."
Allan glared at Taylor, his arm still firmly shoved down his bag. Shawn stood by, clueless about the dynamics this group had formed, and shocked at the entire situation. After a moment of consideration, Allan pulled his arm out. "What are we gonna do, then?"
Taylor sighed. "She said she wanted to turn. I say we let her turn."
"Why would we do that?" Shawn asked, slightly annoyed. "We should put her down, save her from being one of those things."
"Her boyfriend turned," Malcolm sighed. "He died saving her. They didn't have time to put him down."
Shawn's eyebrow was high in the air, still not getting it. "And? We've got time. Between the four of us, I'm sure we make up at least one heart to give her mercy."
"I think she wants to be with him," Taylor said. "She wasn't with him when it happened. She probably thinks now, she can be with him. Both in heaven, and on Earth."
Shawn sighed, scratching his head. "You people are fucked up."
"Maybe we are," Taylor stated. "But what does it have to do with you? Let her die on her own terms. She wants to turn, what's it to you?"
The farmboy's voice softened. "Okay," he said. "I'm sorry. It just feels kinda…"
"Inhumane?" Malcolm asked. "It feels a bit like that to us too. At least, to me," he said, then looked down to Taylor, who nodded his head, agreeing that it didn't feel exactly right. "But it's not up to me."
Shawn nodded and shifted his position, beginning to shiver at the cold wind of the night. "Alright, then. So let's bring her in. Be with her until the end. Hopefully she'll wake up eventually. Tell us how she really feels."
Malcolm and Taylor nodded in unison. They set to work, wrapping her bite up and moving her inside. They would wait, and be with her in her final moments.
Though this is a bit later than intended, SURPRISE! Celebrating my spring break and the end of TWD Season 5, I'll be posting a chapter every day this weekend. Friday (today), Saturday, and Sunday!