Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: Apologies for the longer chapter, there was simply no way to split it up. This has been a hard write, pulling everything together so that everyone is where I need them to be. I re-wrote the last few paragraphs more times than I care to admit, but I've finally got where I need it to be at this point.
Also I am going to start titling chapters, (mostly because it is easier to see what particular chapter is what) and when I have time, I will go over all the previous chapters and rename them too.
...
Dusk was starting to creep its insidious way, touching with delicate fingers of shade and shadow at the edge of the woods, shrouding and carpeting the forest floor. The muffled low cries and caws of birds starting to settle and roost in the dense foliage broke with the occasional rustle and squawk as they fought and jostled with each other for space on the branches.
Blake and Mitch had returned from the foraging run a while back, with Diego. There had been an accident -they'd been overrun with biters in the woods, barely escaping with their lives. Pete had paid the price, and had died a hero, saving their collective asses. Or so Blake had said. Caesar wasn't totally convinced. Mitch had looked pale and stricken... almost afraid, his eyes puffy and red from grief. He'd seemed unusually distant and uncomfortable in Blake's presence. And as soon as he could, Mitch had made his excuses and locked himself up in his trailer with a bottle of bourbon.
And then Scott...man, that guy had come out spouting some ludicrous crap that the new woman in camp had come from the prison. Caesar had almost laughed out aloud at that, until he'd seen the almost zealous expression on Blake's face.
Martinez paced restlessly, swaying slightly as he walked, the fine light rain seeping through his T-shirt and cooling his skin. For a moment-he wished that he'd thought to have gone to his trailer and picked up a few more bottles, but the news had gotten him rattled enough that he'd wanted to put space between himself and the others in camp. He had to try to think things through with a clear rational mind, and drinking wasn't the answer even though he longed for a beer.
He gazed into the darkness, his thumb absently rubbing at the wooden butt of the snub nosed revolver tucked into the front of his pants. It was her gun, Carols-the grey haired woman- he'd meant to stash the weapon in his trailer earlier, but hadn't. He pulled the gun out, looking at it as he turned it over in his hand. A quick flash of movement beyond the tree lines made him grasp and raise the revolver, and he squinted one eye, taking a measured aim. A bird fluttered out of the trees, squawking loudly in alarm, and Caesar sighed wearily. "Boom, you're dead, cabrón," he murmured, slowly lowering the gun.
"Fucking shit, who the hell in Christ's name put that there!"
He looked over his shoulder, tucking the revolver back into his pants as he watched a portly bald headed man with a long graying beard stumble and trip clumsily over a pile of logs that lay next to one of the upturned barrels. Flames licked out of the barrel, the rain dampened wood sizzling, the wan light casting ghostly shadows. "Jesus, Connor. Idiota. You make enough noise to wake the dead." Caesar frowned and then chuckled to himself at the irony of his joke.
"Yeah, very funny," Connor grunted as lumbered to his feet, wiping irritably at the dirt on the knees of his denims.
"This the last one?"
"Nah. There's two more of 'em, other end of camp. This damn weather ain't making it any easier. The wood's too damp, taking forever to spark 'em up." Connor paused, swatting at his bald head, glancing up at the darkening sky as the rain fell softly in his eyes. He blinked rapidly against the moisture as he turned his head back towards him. "Oh, yeah, there's one thing while I think of it, Martinez. Them perimeters you set up? There's several gaps, enough for 'em lurkers to get through. You need to get that sorted. Oh, and another thing-"
Caesar turned his back to the woods, half aware of a small flurry of activity as branches swayed then snapped back as a figure retreated stealthily into the shadowy depths. He felt dispirited and tired. Felt weary and sick of everyone coming to him, tired of running the camp. Tired of dealing with the never ending shit. And now, now Pete was gone and he felt even more alone...trapped. Isolated. Afraid and wary of what else could come.
"You trying to tell me how to run my own camp, Connor? Do I look like I'm caring about this? Any of this right now? That I care a single shit what you think? No, amigo." He gestured irritably with his hand, "You're wrong. Just go, do what the hell you gotta do and just get out'a here, leave me alone," he snapped, badly wishing again that he'd brought a bottle with him. Anything to drown out the nagging voices in his head, anything to stop the uncomfortable churn of his guts.
"Hell to this! You're losing it, Martinez," Connor retorted.
The rain spattered down, flaring the flames as they licked at the damp wood. Connor glared at him for a moment, muttering angrily under his breath, before turning on his heel and striding back through the camp.
"Yeah. Don't I know it," Caesar said softly, glancing at the distant tree line over his shoulder, before following after the older man.
...
Caesar found himself at Kennys old trailer at the outskirts of camp, before he'd even realized that he'd walked there. Barrels of flaming, spluttering lumber dotted intermediately throughout the camp, casting the hulking forms of static trailers, RV's and station wagons in shadows.
He dug into the pocket of his pants, swaying on the balls of his feet as he grasped and pulled out a battered packet of Viceroys. He thumbed one quickly, lighting it after a few drunken fumbling attempts, smiling to himself and savoring the taste of menthol tinged nicotine as it burnt sharply at his tongue. He exhaled quickly in a gust of blue grey smoke, stepping backwards as the door to Kenny's trailer swung open.
"Carol," he inclined his head respectfully as the small gray haired woman trod cautiously down the rickety steps.
Carol glanced at him, biting at her lip, one hand holding onto the door frame. She had the odd startled look of a rabbit caught and trapped in the glow of headlights, and he didn't know why-but he felt inclined to step closer, wanting to reach out and reassure her, wanting to reassure himself that he wasn't quite so alone, but wanting the truth from her more- even though she shrunk back away from him.
Tell me the truth, mujer pequeña.Speak to me. Why did your group abandon you? Are you from the prison? Did you belong to Ricks group? He found himself wanting to question, but instead his tongue twisted on itself and found other words. "How are you settling in?" he asked. "Is everything to your comfort?"
"I'm sorry. I've been so busy the last few hours in camp, that I haven't had much of a chance to thank you, any of you," she shrugged, edging away from him. She looked up and smiled, and Caesar was struck by the vivid flash of the blues of her eyes. "For taking me in, and making me feel welcome here. You, and Sandy, Tara, Lilly and Alisha. The others in the camp. I can't thank any of you enough."
"It ain't no problem," he replied, raising the cigarette to his mouth and inhaling deeply. He watched her carefully through a plume of smoke, Blake's reaction still fresh in his mind, warning him. "If there was something...I don't know? Amiss, something wrong in the camp, you would tell me, no? This is my camp, and if something isn't right-"
She glanced away from him, shrugging again as her hands fidgeted at her waist. Martinez wasn't dumb. His mother hadn't brought him up to be a fool. She was subconsciously searching out her weapons. The ones that he still had.
"I don't know what you mean," she smiled, even though it didn't reach her eyes. She regarded him coolly, "Everything's fine."
"I'm just asking," he smiled back. You say one thing dama, and yet your actions speak of another. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, and Caesar was suddenly unsure how to respond. He wanted her to talk so he could judge her reactions. He wanted to know the truth. If he could trust her.
"You shouldn't do that," she said quietly, a small wry, wary smile starting to push hesitantly at her lips. Her forehead crinkled in sudden amusement as she watched him.
He paused, the cigarette half way to his mouth. "Shouldn't do what?"
"Smoke. It isn't good for your health. It will kill you one day."
Caesar chuckled, "Lady, if it ain't one thing that's gonna kill me, it'll be another. We're all gonna die soon enough. Why make life any harder on myself, eh?"
"You remind me of someone I once knew," she smiled again, briefly, glancing down at her feet. "He always said if he was going to die, he may as well go out with a cigarette in his mouth."
"Wise words, senora. I almost approve of this man you speak of," he joked.
"Maybe." She turned her gaze from him, listening intently, and frowning.
"What is it?"
"Music?" she asked curiously. "It's been a while since I last heard that. Sounds like you've got a party-"
"Ah, hell," he spat, dropping the cigarette to the ground where it spluttered and died in the tramped down grass. "It ain't nothing but a few of the guys winding down after their shifts. But I've told them before, they need to keep it nice and quiet. Dial it down a notch or two, you get me?"
"Whatever, it really isn't my problem."
"It will be if the biters hear," he said. "You shouldn't be this close to the edge of camp on your own. Walk with me."
She shrugged stiffly again, as if his question wasn't quite the question it appeared to be, but more of a demand. And if Caesar was honest with himself, he wasn't exactly asking out of politeness. He didn't need anyone skittish and drawing unnecessary attention at the edge of camp. Didn't need anyone attracting any of the biters.
And more than that—Caesar didn't want Blake coming across her when she was out there alone. He feared what could happen if he wasn't there to prevent it. He knew exactly what the Governor was capable of, had seen it many times before.
He nodded curtly at her, before heading off towards the center of the camp, the smaller woman hurriedly keeping pace with him.
…
The rain had eased up as they stepped into the central part of the camp. It was nothing more than a small space amongst the litter of RV's and trailers—at the edges; lines of laundered clothing swayed damply in the breeze. The area was lit by more of the barrels, flames licking out, casting everything in a warm orange glow. The sounds of merriment reached them, and as Carol looked, she could see at least half of the camp sat around a few of the makeshift picnic tables; discarded opened cans of food, bottles of beer and paper plates strewn across the weathered dirty table tops. She narrowed her eyes as she spied a lone black handled pocket knife laying half hidden among the debris, and glanced away quickly.
Tara was giggling as Alisha danced and swayed to the rhythmic beat of an up-tempo pop song that came from a stereo rigged up to a car battery, a furious blush coloring her cheeks. Her sister, Lilly, dug her in the ribs and Tara covered her mouth with her hand, all the while her dark wide eyes never leaving the curly brown haired woman as she danced with a young muscular Asian guy wearing a bandana around his neck. Sandy was sat to one side, trying to decline an invitation to dance with a tall lanky brown haired man, and as Carol looked at him, she felt her blood suddenly freeze and run to ice in her veins.
Scott.
If he'd seen, or recognized her-he didn't acknowledge it. Carol watched in alarm as Scott tugged at Sandys arm, his familiar smirk twisting quickly into a petulant sneer. He muttered angrily to her, and Sandy twisted away from him in her seat, swatting and shoving at him with her hands. He glared at her, before striding away across the camp, the shadows consuming him.
Carol turned her gaze from them, swallowing quickly as she watched the Hispanic make his way over to the throng of people, gesturing wildly with his hands. She looked away, half listening as he quietly berated the others, the sound of the music suddenly lowering, the obvious sullen displeasure of the others rippling throughout the camp.
She stared at the knife left abandoned on the table top, and glanced quickly at the others stood around Caesar as he issued out his orders. She slipped quietly across to the table, fidgeting a moment with a discarded paper plate, before placing it over the knife. Looking around once more, she quickly palmed the knife, her fingers curling around the blunt edge of the handle, tucking it up into the depths of her sleeve. She stepped back guiltily, feeling strangely relieved that she now finally had a weapon that was far better than the flat headed screw-driver tucked into her boot.
She glanced in the direction that Scott had taken. He was a threat-one that she would have to eliminate, if she could. Scott could jeopardize everything. She suddenly felt stupidly vulnerable and ashamed, despite the concealed knife. Merle would've chastised her loudly if he was here. But he damn well wasn't. Tears smarted at her eyes at the thought of him and Daryl-knowing that she'd screwed up and was never going to see either of them again. That she would never see the prison, or any of her extended family. That they were all lost to her, just like her girls. Lizzie and sweet, naive little Mika.
Ricks words flooded back, cruelly taunting. The last words he'd said before he'd left her. He'd even deprived her of her girls; of the one last final chance to be with them, to say goodbye.
"If you think I'm going anywhere without Lizzie and Mika-"
"You want them to leave...to got out there with you? Lizzie is sick, and Mika is ten years old."
"Please, you can't..."
"We'll keep them safe. You're not that woman who was scared to be alone, not any more. You're going to start over, find others-people who don't know and you're going to survive out there. You will."
She sighed tearfully. Rick was wrong. He was wrong about every damn thing. How he'd treated her, and then cast her aside after the way she'd loved and cared about the kids, her girls and his children. Lizzie and Mika, Carl and Judith. How Rick hadn't had been prepared to listen to what she'd had to say, how he'd automatically misjudged her after every single thing that they'd been through—like he wrongly misjudged everyone else and every situation that arose. How Rick had treated Merle right from the start- like the man was nothing but expendable—as if Merle didn't matter to no-one, not even to his own brother. Never mind the consequences of what Ricks impetuous actions always brought. It didn't seem to matter what Daryl had done for them all. What Daryl had always unselfishly done for them all. When it came down to Merle...when it came down to Daryl's own flesh and blood, Rick was blinkered. And Rick...well, Rick didn't seem to care about any of it.
Caesar seemed restless and ill at ease as he came back across to where she stood, and she looked at him in wary surprise, crossing her arms over her chest and taking some small comfort from the bulk of the knife stashed safely away in her sleeve.
"Hey. Hey, you okay?" He asked, his brow creasing in surprise and sudden concern.
Carol sniffled in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I'm fine. All of this? Seeing everyone together here brought it home a little. I guess I'm just missing my old group more than I thought I would," she said, trying to reassure him. "I don't want to cause any fuss. Really, I'm fine."
"Why did they leave you?" Caesar queried softly. "Your people? They must've been pretty careless to do such a thing. I've never left anyone behind."
"Not everyone is like you then, Caesar," she replied tightly. "Some people don't think twice before throwing others to the..." she fumbled for words, pausing and glancing away from him, frowning. "It was all my fault anyway. I was stupid. But none of that matters any more. It's gone. It's the past, and what good comes from bringing any of that up? It doesn't achieve anything."
"I guess that's a fair point," he agreed. "But you have to forgive me for my curiosity. You haven't spoken much about-"
Carol sighed, knowing that Caesar wasn't going to let it go until he had some sort of story. "Our old camp, the first camp that we made, got overrun with walkers one night. We fled, but we lost so many good people along the way. After that, we moved from place to place, trying to find somewhere safe. I suppose at the end of it all, there's no such thing. The risks, the dangers? They're everywhere. It never stops, it never ends."
Caesar looked at her shrewdly, his dark brown eyes unreadable in the dim light. "I don't believe you're telling me...the full story. Try again, dama. And this time, the truth."
She looked at him sharply. "I don't know you. Hell, I don't know anyone in this camp. I'm sorry if you don't believe-"
"I never said I don't believe you, but you ain't telling me the full story," Caesar insisted.
She shook her head, unable to meet the strange earnest demand that blazed in his dark eyes. Instead she glanced away from him and looked across the camp. Tara was talking in hushed tones to Sandy, Lilly had disappeared. Carol sighed again, to herself. Nothing was easy. But then again, it never had been. She felt a pang strike her acutely, and she wondered where Merle was, and if he was even missing her half as much as she was longing for him.
"Caesar, please...just...just stop. Stop this. There's nothing left to say," she said shrugged. "I told you what happened. I got left behind, separated from my group, the people I'd been traveling with. Our camp...we got overrun with those monsters, those...those walkers – it happens."
"Walkers," Caesar repeated, his forehead wrinkling thoughtfully.
"It's just a name," she said quickly. "Nothing more. Walkers, roamers, geeks-it all means the same damn thing."
"Just a name? That ain't nothing I come across before. Not since -" he paused.
"Not since, when?"
"Verlin's," he said, watching her reaction carefully. "The meeting at the grain store—the one that Andrea arranged." He knew he was taking a huge gamble, but he now felt he had no other choice, and he refused to back down. He had to know-even if it meant taking a risk and laying all of his cards on the table. One of them had to back down. Gain a little trust. It wasn't like he had so much to lose any more, anyway. Things were already starting to spiral out of his control.
Carol didn't answer, just stared blankly past him, and Caesar fought against the rising dread that he'd totally misjudged and misread the situation. For a long while he wondered if she would even answer.
"So. You...you were there?" she said eventually, the words spoken so quietly, that he almost didn't hear.
He stifled back a small sigh of relief. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."
"Then you...you met with Rick? With Daryl?"
"Daryl?" he asked, watching as she gave a small nod of affirmation. "You're meaning the hick with the crossbow? Yeah, I met with him. We shared a few smokes, chewed the fat a while. Hell, I almost liked the man."
"Caesar," she warned softly.
"Hey, you need to listen to me. It might seem wrong to you, but you ain't got no reason to distrust me. I see how this might come across, but I ain't lying. I need you to-"
"You...you were one of his men?" she stared at him in disbelief. "Why... why should I believe anything you have to damn well say?"
Martinez sighed tiredly, "Why?" he shook his head as he glanced around the camp. "Because this camp? It was my one last chance to turn things 'round. Make things right after everything that went down. I had this stupid idea that I could start again. But hell, now Pete's gone, and shit rolls downhill. I swear...I swear I'm next," he said softly. "You wanna lay blame for all this? Then lay it on me. This? It's my fault-I saw him...Blake there with that little girl and those women, and I thought he'd changed. I should've seen through it, but I didn't want to. It ain't ever been right, I know it now. He's gonna take this camp, and you and me? We ain't gonna be safe here no more. He'll want us gone, and worse, a lot worse. You gotta start trusting me, Carol."
"Trust you? Why the hell would I do that?" she said pacing away from him, wringing her hands together.
"You have to. Look...I've gotta get you away from here, keep you safe," he paused, as she looked at him wide eyed in confusion. "He knows you're from the prison, dama. As long as you're with me...I'll do what I can. I just need you trust me. To start trusting me."
"I don't know...what do you want from me?" she started, stopping when she saw Blake and Diego burst their way through the camp.
Brian took a long sweeping glance across the camp, his cold one-eyed gaze taking in the muted music, the few people still dancing in the clearing. His gaze swept past them, settling on her for what seemed a moment, and she shrunk back from his piercing look. His gaze then swept past her to rest angrily on the Hispanic.
"What the hell kind of camp do you think you're running here, Martinez?" Blake demanded, striding across the camp and wrenching the radio-seizing it and angrily thrusting it at Martinez's chest.
Caesar staggered under the sudden blow, stumbling backwards a few paces, the radio tumbling from his grip and falling to the ground. He stared at it for a moment, blinking rapidly, before raising his head to stare back at Blake in confusion. "Hey, hey man, cool it down! There ain't no need-"
"There's every damn need! You and this foolishness are gonna attract every goddamn biter out there for miles!"
Carol stepped back, wanting to separate herself from the two men. Diego watched her curiously. She ignored him as she stepped further into the darkness of the shelter of the RV's. She felt the comforting bulk of the knife in her sleeve, the handle warm against her skin. She glanced once more at the men, half listening to Caesars protests as she slipped further into the shadows, taking advantage of the situation as the two men angrily advanced on the Hispanic.
"Hey, it ain't no big deal, man. The guys needed to blow off a little steam," Caesar said, stepping backwards. "Didn't think it was such an issue-"
"That's always been your problem, Martinez. You don't think."
"What do you know, Brian," Caesar retorted angrily. "I would've left you. If it hadn't been for that little girl. For the people with you, back there, then? I wouldn't have brought you back to the camp. If it was just you? I would've left your ass in that pit."
Blake smiled slowly. "But you didn't, did you?"
"Aunt Tara. Aunt Tara!"
A high pitched girlish scream split the air, and Carol watched from the shadows as Tara stumbled in alarm, her feet nearly tripping her up, her mouth gaping open. "Meghan? Oh God!"
Blake turned quickly, "No," he mouthed as he sped on his heel, shoving his way past Tara. "This isn't happening. Not again."
Carol followed quickly on the heels of Caesar, stopping as she saw the young girl flat on her back, the walker in the darkness reaching out and clawing at the young girls legs. Tara was on her knees, her hand grasped about the walkers ankles, the flesh flaying in her grasp until she was left with nothing but rotten pulp clasped in her hands.
There was a loud resounding boom that echoed through the silence. Blake stood angry and defiantly, his pistol cocked. The walker had fallen to the side, one hand still clasping the young girls ankle.
"I tried, oh God," Tara sobbed. "Meghan..."
Blake stooped down, "Are you...are you alright pumpkin?" The young girl gaped at him in fear, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Brian?" she sobbed as he knelt on the ground and scooped her up. He stood slowly, the girl clasped tightly to him, her long auburn hair draping across his chest and catching in the stubble on his chin. "I won't let anything happen to you ever," he soothed in a low voice. "I gotcha pumpkin."
"Promise me Brian?" Meghan sobbed tearfully. "Pinky promise? Don't leave me-"
"Cross my heart. Forever," Blake intoned, his gaze drifting towards Caesar. "I asked you one thing. One simple thing. And you know what that was. I asked if you could keep this place safe."
"I told you, man," Caesar shook his head. "I told you I'd do what I could. I'd try. That we'd be prepared for whatever-"
"Oh God! Meghan! Is she alright?" Lilly sobbed as she raced towards Brian. "She's not hurt, not bitten, please?"
"Lilly, I'm sorry," Tara mumbled, glancing down at the biter gunk smeared over her palms. She wiped her hands across her thighs distastefully.
Lilly dropped to her knees in front of the young girl, clasping her tightly, her hands shaking as she smoothed them over her daughters long hair. "I'm here," she soothed, her voice breaking with emotion. She looked up at Brian over Meghans shoulder. "How could this have happened? I thought...I thought this camp was safe from those things?"
"You're right, it should've been safe, but it wasn't. I'll fix this. Go on back to our trailer, take Meghan. I won't be long." Blake said, his gaze drifting past the Chamblers, to the small throng of stunned and shocked people assembling silently in the small clearing. "As you might be aware, we've had an incident with a biter that shouldn't have happened. But it's been dealt with."
"Wouldn't have happened if Martinez had done what he was told and checked 'em fucking perimeters," Connor called out angrily. "I told him. Christ, this shit was just beggin' to happen!"
A few of the camp murmured in agreement, and Caesar glanced at them, shaking his head in defeat. "None of you...you ain't giving me a chance to explain..."
"Explain what?" Blake stood rigidly, the anger almost bubbling off him. "You might as well have gone and let that biter in yourself. You need to make this right, do a sweep of the camp, put your own people at ease. Don't mess up this time, Martinez."
"Alright," Caesar shrugged wearily. He couldn't bring himself to look at the disgusted looks from the others, and he felt self conscious that they were all watching him with unexpected hostility. "Alright, I'll do what I gotta do," he said, ignoring the hissed comments and whispered insults as he stepped back and away from the others.
"Shows over people," Blake called out. "Go on back to your trailers, sleep, rest up. Tomorrow's a new day."
Mumbled protests greeted him as the small throng of people made their way restlessly back across the camp. Blake cast his eye over to where Diego stood with his semi automatic rifle resting against his shoulder. He glanced past him into the shadows, Diego following his gaze. "Get Mitch. Follow Martinez, watch him," Blake said thoughtfully. "Find out what he knows about that woman from the prison. Do what you have to do, but find out. And then in the morning? Take him to the pits, you'll know what to do. Make it clean, but make him gone."
"I got this. He ain't gonna be any problem," Diego murmured.
Blake stared at him for a moment before nodding in agreement. "I've got to go. I need to check on Meghan and Lily. Do this Diego, and don't screw up, or you'll be facing the pits, along with Martinez."
Diego paled despite his tan. "Ain't gonna be a problem," he repeated quietly, although he was unsure if he was trying to reassure himself, or just following orders.
…
Golf balls. Fucking golf balls.
At least four of the small off white pitted balls lay in the thick grass at the edge of the perimeter. Caesar would have missed them if he hadn't had trodden on one in mistake. The guards were nowhere in sight.
¿Qué diablos? Martinez mused to himself as he patrolled the south eastern edges of the perimeters. The guards were gone from their posts, and he thought that he'd find and berate them as soon as he found them. It was no wonder that the biter had broken its way through the camp. He knelt down, grasping one of the small white balls, turning it over in his hands, frowning at it. He had no answer to why the golf balls lay where they did, all he knew was that he wasn't the one that had put them there, and he was pretty much sure that he was the only one that knew that he used them.
Qué mierda? He mouthed silently to himself in confusion.¿pelotas de golf maldito de Dios?
Martinez sighed as he made his way back to his trailer, rolling the golf ball in his hand as he walked. He was at a loss. He'd been keeping an eye out for Carol, trying to not make it obvious to anyone that might have looked. But she'd gone, as if she'd vanished and there was no sight or sign of her anywhere. He frowned to himself, fearing again what Blake would do if he found her.
He swung the door open to his trailer and stepped inside, narrowing his eyes in the deep gloom. A small red glow several feet away caught his eye, the sudden waft of cigarette smoke strong inside the confines of his trailer. The small red glowing ember flared briefly, then moved. He paused, unsure who was there when he heard the slight scuffle of feet close behind him, the sudden and unmistakable bulk of a gun prodding at his side.
"Why?" he asked.
"It ain't nothing personal," Diego said in the darkness. "But you've gotta see, we've gone and got ourselves a little problem here-"
"Shut your mouth, Diego," Mitch grunted, the red glowing ember of the cigarette flaring brightly before fading, his boot nosily grinding it into the floor.
"Ah, fuck to it. Move your ass Martinez," Diego grunted, shoving at Caesar, jostling him on his feet, the gun never leaving his side.
"Whatever this is? You don't have to do this-"
"Don't?" Mitch laughed bitterly. "Hell Martinez, what the hell do you know?"
Caesar stumbled over his own feet as the other man pushed at him hard. "Why are you doing this? This is Blake, isn't it?" he spat. "You know nothing about him, but I do. And you're gonna trust him, over me? Hell, whatever he's said, man, don't believe it. I kept this camp safe. Me, alone. You know I did."
"Shit man, don't take this personally, but its survival. Yeah... okay, you kept us safe this far, I'll grant you that, but you've lost it man—I've seen you drinking all fucking day, shit...you ain't got the guts for this no more. And me, well fuck it, I happen to like my skin in one piece. You almost let that lil girl die, and why? Cause you've gone soft and you don't give a shit no more. Brian...hell man, that guy does. He cares what happens. He wants to keep this camp safe."
"You're just like my brother," Mitch said quietly, regret tingeing his voice. "Pete always was too loyal. I told him about it. Hell, I warned him but he wouldn't listen. He was always too loyal to bounce. Too fucking loyal. He cost us...and hell Martinez, you're just like him. Old one eye's right. Sometimes we gotta do one or two bad little things...for the greater good. Hell, even Diego's right. You've gone soft. Too soft. Just like my brother."
"You can't trust him," Martinez insisted. "You're making a big mistake. You don't know him, not any of you. Just let me go, amigo."
"I ain't your friend," Diego spat.
Mitch pushed himself to his feet, "We gotta ask you a few things. It'd be in your better interests if you answered. Don't shit us Martinez," he warned.
"We're wasting time with this Mitch," Diego whined. "Lets just do what we gotta, leave this crap 'til the morning, huh, just like Bri said?" He looked at Caesar and smirked. "It ain't like this ass-hole got much say in the matter, and hell I'm tired, and I wanna get some shut eye." He brought his firearm up quickly, smacking it abruptly and viciously against the side of Caesars head.
"Shit!" Mitch grunted in surprise as the other man slumped suddenly, his head lolling to the side. He stepped back, watching in the dim light as the body thudded to the ground; a small lone golf ball falling and rolling out of Caesars limp hand.
Diego prodded the prone form with the toe of his boot, "You ain't nothing but a dead man walking, amigo."
…
As soon as Blake had entered the camp, Carol had made herself disappear, not wishing to bring any more attention to herself, and especially by him. She slipped through the shadows, through the haphazard corridors of darkened vehicles towards the edge of the camp where her trailer was, the small flick knife slipping into her palm, its presence in her hand reassuring. She held her breath, willing herself to be calm as she pressed the little button on the side of the knife, her breath stilling as the knifes edge swung neatly open. She glanced briefly at the bright blade, pressing herself to the side of an empty RV, pausing for a moment, staring into the thick shadows. She thought she could see a small flash of movement and she waited a few more precious seconds, before edging further into the shadows.
Scott was stood at the perimeter, unaware that he was being observed, and she felt a familiar pang of anger, doubt and self loathing at his presence. She'd watched him as he'd disappeared into the shadows, and she had been seized by uncertainty. She'd wanted to warn him to back off, to leave Sandy alone. She'd seen exactly how he'd reacted to the other woman, how he'd been pushing himself on her. Ed had done similar so many times and she hated to see any other woman go through the same damn things that she'd had to deal with in the past. She knew all to well how it felt. What could...and would happen.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Scott said softly to himself. "That I didn't know you were there. I knew. I've known all along."
Carol crept closer towards him, stopping and stiffening in the shadows at the sound of his voice, her eyes fixed rigidly on his back. She didn't bother answering him. Instead she stared at the knife in her hand, the doubts filling her. She wasn't a cold hearted killer. She couldn't kill in cold blood, no matter what had happened back at the prison with Karen and David.
"You really think you've got me, that you understand, that you know me?" he said softly, staring at the long dense tree lines."But you're wrong, just like everyone else." He moved quickly towards her, his hand suddenly snaking out and grasping her arm, wrestling and twisting the knife from her grasp, the blade falling to the ground, the sound muffled in the tramped down wet grass. "Wow man, just take a fucking look at this!" he laughed brightly. "You're mine now, you little bitch, and there ain't nothing you can do about it."
She struggled against him, but he wrapped his arm tightly around her, pressing her firmly to his chest. "Where's your pathetic hick bodyguard now, huh?" he breathed, his face close to her neck, his breath warm and cloying, smelling sourly of alcohol.
"Let me go, Scott," she warned as she struggled against him, even though it was useless. Her arms were trapped and pinned at her sides.
"Man, I've had enough of this," Scott grimaced, raising his revolver and smacking it squarely across her temple. "You know, I always preferred a woman that weren't so willing. Don't blame me, it's how it is."
She tried to focus on him, even as her body sagged. The last thing she saw, before the darkness enveloped her, was his small twisted smile.
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