Note: If you only read my story for sex jokes and witty banter (because fuck yeah I'm witty) then…this is a little different. Just warnin' ya. Huh. Did not mean to type that in Merle's "voice" Anyway, read on.
Merle gave Daryl a push and they ran for the camp. Outrunning the herd wouldn't be an issue, but it wouldn't do any good unless they could get everyone to a safe place before the hoard caught up.
"Did you miss me?" Marie asked when Daryl snagged the back of her jacket as he passed her.
"Walkers," he said shortly. "Run."
"Walkers? You mean Biters?" she gasped as she tried to turn and stumbled.
Daryl hauled her up. "Yeah. Shit load of 'em. We gotta get somewhere safern' this."
"How many?" Marie asked, starting to shake.
"We didn't stop to count the zombies, sweetheart," Merle drawled. "Move that ass."
"I am!"
"Move it faster. Quit makin' my brother drag ya."
Marie pushed herself away from Daryl and they ran hell-for-leather into the camp.
"What's going on?" Carrie gasped when they barreled into the camp.
"Zombies!" Merle bellowed. "Herd of 'em!" With the camp alerted he turned to more important matters. "Where's Yank?"
"Herd?" Shane yelled. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This ain't the time to be questionin' me! Get people inside! Where's Sinclaire?"
"Right here," she said, appearing beside him and drawing both guns. "Like the highway?"
"Shit yeah."
The panic in the camp built to screams as Sinclaire thought of the best plan. A few minutes tops till the zombies found them. They were slow, but in a pack they'd be dangerous. Get everyone accounted for. Get them all together. Get to the bar, close it up. Lights out, no sound. Pray like hell.
Merle saw her take a deep breath.
"Everybody quiet!" she yelled at the top of her voice.
The camp fell silent.
"We've got about two minutes. That's longer than it sounds. I want a head count and I want it now! Who are we missing?"
"Where's Carl?" Lori and Rick asked each other at the same time.
"Oh my God!" Lori continued as she turned around, and scanned the camp frantically.
"Stay where you are!" Sinclaire ordered when it looked like she might go running off. "Who else?"
"Sophia," Carol said in a shaking voice.
"So we're missing both kids. Carol, Lori, Carrie, Tiff…where's Tiff?"
Merle glanced around suddenly and realized for the first time that she was gone.
"She said she was going to walk down the river a little bit," Carrie said. "T said he'd go with her."
"All right," Sinclaire tried for brisk even though her heart was sinking. "We're missing Sophia, Carl, Tiff, and T. Okay. Merle and I will look east, Daryl and Rick south, Nate and Shane north. Head west and get eaten. Everyone else get to the bar. Andrea, Dale, Glenn, you can shoot from the windows to cover us. Move, move, move!"
They moved.
"They can say what they like about ya, ya get shit done," Merle said almost absently as they headed for the river.
"We'll find her, Merle."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know."
They scanned the river's edge for tracks.
"Shit," he muttered. "They headed back toward the woods."
"You track?"
"Where ya think Daryl learned it from?" Merle lied. Daryl had taught him, but this was no time to start giving his brother credit.
"You've got your machete right?"
"Never leave home without it."
A scream pierced the air and Merle went still. Sinclaire did the opposite. She ran around the small bend to find a smaller part of the herd Merle had talked about. And Tiffany and T-dog, right in the middle of it.
Sinclaire leveled her gun at the one closest to Tiff and pulled the trigger. Her aim had improved and more Walkers fell with bullets in gray matter than ever before but it wasn't fast enough. They swarmed over T-dog and she saw teeth rip into his neck. Blood shot over the scene as he fell, which only livened up the zombies that much more. They crouched, snarling as they ripped flesh from his body as others gnawed right from the source. Sinclaire did the only thing she could do. She put a bullet in his brain. At least that way, he wouldn't come back.
In her moment of distraction, a burly zombie grabbed one of Tiff's flailing arms and sank its teeth in. She screamed again as she tried to push it away.
Merle pushed past Sinclaire, and into the fray where he grabbed Tiffany. Sinclaire wouldn't have been able to keep him covered if so many of the herd hadn't been busy with their fresh meal. He only had one hand, and since he was using it to hold Tiff up, he was defenseless. He yanked her forward as she tried to cover her ragged bite with her opposite hand.
"Let's go," Sinclaire yelled. "Back to the bar, come on!" It was pointless and they all knew it, but it wasn't like she was going to cap her in front of Merle.
"What about T?" she shrieked. "We can't just leave him like this!"
"Move!" Sinclaire ordered. She didn't want to leave T like a late night snack either, but there wasn't anything she could do.
Merle pulled Tiff away roughly. Sinclaire could hear her harsh sobs as they ran, but they were soon drowned out as they reached the camp.
It was a zombie swarm.
"Fuck!" Merle bellowed.
Sinclaire's ears rang with the sounds of Shane's and Nate's rifles, and the shots of the group on the porch. She didn't see Rick or Daryl, but Shane and Nate were back-to-back, with Sophia and Carl between them.
Sinclaire hung back to help add to the path Glenn and Andrea were trying to clear for them to get the kids to the porch. It slowly, but surely started to work and she saw Shane glance around.
"Go now!" he yelled at Nate.
Nate snatched Sophia up and ran for the porch. Sinclaire dropped the zombie that reached for Sophia's leg and in split seconds Nate was safe on the porch. Soon he added his gun to the cover from the porch.
More Walkers poured in from the woods. Tiffany passed out, rendering Merle totally defenseless. Sinclaire put her back to his. Not many zombies were bothering with them, but a few had shambled their way and been shot for their troubles.
"We've gotta get moving," she said. "We won't stand a chance out here."
"Yeah." Merle looked around. "What about the truck if we can't make the porch?"
"We can try—" Sinclaire began.
There was a sudden scream from the porch.
"No! Shane!"
It was Lori. She was framed in the doorway; Dale was holding her back. Sinclaire's gaze found Shane again. A Walker had him by the leg. Blood was already pooling at his boots as he shattered its skull with his rifle.
He looked up at the porch and then down at Carl. Sinclaire's estimation of Shane went up several notches when he shoved the kid in front of him and made a run for the porch, knocking zombies out of the way with the butt of his, obviously spent, rifle. Zombies tore at his clothes and his skin, but Carl was untouched when Shane pushed him up the steps and stepped back into the hoard.
"Shane!" Lori screamed again. "Please! Not like this!" She turned to the shooters on the porch. "Do something!"
Sinclaire saw a crossbow bolt lodge in the eye socket of one of the zombies about to take yet another bite of Shane.
"Daryl!" Merle yelled.
"Yeah!" Daryl yelled back. "Got Sinclaire?"
"Course I do!"
"Then get yer ass up here! We'll clear it out for ya."
With the focused fire of Nate, Andrea, Dale, Glenn, and Carl from the porch and Rick and Daryl from the side, they all made it to the porch after all. Sinclaire heard Lori sob with relief when Rick stopped for Shane, who tried to push him off and was kicked in the knee by Daryl because they didn't have time for arguments.
"Get movin'," Daryl snapped. "Ain't gettin' eaten for yer sorry ass."
They secured the porch and headed in to the kitchen. Sinclaire watched Rick prop Shane against the doorframe in a sitting position. Lori dropped to her knees beside him. Reverend Fletchley and Marie were near the door too; she was trembling. Sinclaire thought he might be praying. Carol and Sophia were locked in an embrace just inside the door. Carl, sheet pale and obviously feeling guilty, ran into his room. Merle sat down with Tiff's head in his lap. Her blood had coiled like red ribbon over his arms. Sinclaire thought absently that it looked like those braces archers wore on their arms, except brighter.
"Ya all right?" Daryl asked from behind her.
Sinclaire didn't bother to answer.
"Is she…" Daryl trailed off when he saw Tiff's arm. "Fuck."
"I know. Shane too. Maybe others. No one has checked. We need to check. Nate. Rick. Even me. Even you. The kids. Merle."
"Yer shakin'."
"No I'm not."
"Ya are."
Daryl pulled her against him but she couldn't focus on anything but the look on Merle's face. He was running bloody fingers through Tiff's hair almost absently as he looked into her pale face. Maybe all her blood was in his hands.
"Sinclaire?"
"Bowhunter?"
His voice was so far away. She didn't understand how his voice could be so far away when his skin was right against hers. She looked down at his arms. There was blood there. His? Hers? Zombie's?
"Sinclaire!" he repeated more emphatically.
If he wanted to talk to her, why didn't he come closer? Her head felt heavy and her ears were suddenly filled with a gray sound. His hands were painfully tight on her arms. It felt like steel. It didn't matter for a few moments, but the haze lifted when he shook her and yelled her name again.
"I'm fine." She shrugged out of his grip. "Just light headed."
"We'll wait and see!" Lori's voice, tinged with hysteria, cut through all the extraneous conversation in the bar kitchen. "We don't know that you'll get sick!"
"Sick?" Shane asked with a half laugh. "I'm gonna die, Lori. And I'm gonna come back as one of those things if you don't put me down."
"Don't talk like you're a dog! We aren't going to do that! No one here would do that!"
Her wild, wide eyes scanned the group as if for confirmation. Gazes slid from hers.
"You're not saying you'd let them do this?" she asked Rick as her hand fell to the curve of her belly. "Rick. Rick, you can't let this happen! You can't let them…not…you can't do this! You can't…you can't…" she couldn't seem to catch her breath.
Sinclaire stepped forward and slapped her as hard as she could. The sound seemed to bounce interminably off the reinforced walls and windows.
"Don't be so goddamn blind. It's up to Shane. If he wants to wait and see then that's fine. Someone can sit with him and if he turns…then you know what we'll have to do. If he doesn't…"
"I'll turn," he said flatly. "I always said that if I got bit I'd end it before I'd put you in danger." One fingertip traced Lori's cheek.
"Not like this," she whispered.
It was as if they'd forgotten anyone else was there. She laid his hand on her stomach beside hers. He met her eyes. She nodded. Rick stood and walked out as Lori lowered her head, pressing her forehead against Shane's. Sinclaire knew she should leave too, but she couldn't seem to manage it. No one else could either for that matter.
"You saved my son," she whispered.
"I've always loved you. Always. You've got to know that, Lori."
She began to cry.
"Just give me some time. Just some time. Just till the fever comes."
"Shhh, baby," he raised one hand and cupped the back of her head. "Shhh, shhh, shhh, all right. All right, we'll wait and see."
Lori sobbed with relief as she pressed her lips to his.
"I'm so sorry, Shane. I'm so, so sorry."
Lori crawled into his lap, heedless of his injuries, but he didn't look like he cared. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Even though he was dying, Sinclaire thought that this might be the first time she'd ever seen Shane Walsh happy.
For a long while there was nothing but the sound of zombies milling around outside the bar. Sinclaire and Daryl sat down beside Merle.
"Reckon she's just in shock," Merle said roughly after a long silence. "Bleedin's too slow for her to be bleedin' out."
Sinclaire put two fingers to Tiff's wrist.
"Pulse is basically steady."
"Fer all the good it's gonna do her."
Sinclaire hadn't heard Merle's voice sound that dead since he'd been coming off the good shit.
"What do I do?" he asked. "We all know ain't no goddamn reason to wait it out."
"She might have last words or…some kind of prayer she wants said…" Daryl said. "We oughta wait and ask her."
Merle nodded silently and went back to twisting her hair around his fingers. Sinclaire watched his chest rise and fall and counted his breaths to keep the gray haze from filling her brain again. His breathing was so shallow that sometimes she felt like he'd forgotten, but then his dog tags caught the low light again.
She reloaded her pistols, the sharp sounds making everyone jump. Tiff's eyes opened and met Merle's.
"Hey there sweetheart," he said.
Her eyes filled with tears. "It hurts. Burns like acid. I…I've been bitten. Are you going to shoot me?"
"They're lettin' Walsh wait it out," Merle answered. "Wanna do the same thing?"
"Wait it out?" she looked confused. "Until he turns into one of those things?"
"So far just till the fever hits." Merle untangled his fingers from her hair. "What about you?"
"I don't know…are you really asking me how I want to die?" The tears spilled down. "I'm not even…ready to go. My mama always told me I'd burn in hell for being a whore. I don't want to go to hell, Merle!" She covered her face with her hands and cried harder. "I don't want to die!"
Daryl stood up and was back in a few minutes with Fletchley.
"Got ya a convert," he said.
Tiffany allowed Merle to help her sit up and she held shaking hands out when Reverend Fletchley held his out to her. Their hands clasped; hers shaking with pain and fear, his as level and soothing as the voice he began to pray in.
"Lord, I bring before you today one of your lost children. Tiffany…"
"Maxwell," she said, shy in the presence of the Lord.
"Tiffany Maxwell. Now Lord, she is hurting and she is scared, and she comes as all your children will at an hour of great need. She wants to feel your presence in her life and, if you see fit, your healing hand upon her."
Sinclaire glanced at Merle as the prayer went on. He braced Tiff with no visible effort, but he was obviously disconcerted. She saw Carol, Sophia, Carrie, Andrea, and to her surprise, Daryl, bow their heads though. She ducked her own and added her prayers to Fletchley's.
"Please don't make me the executioner."