Less than five minutes later, we heard loud shouting outside. I shared an uneasy glance with Maggie and not looking back, we both rushed outside, the rest of the group hot on our heels. The first thing I noticed was Rick running towards the barn and Daryl standing outside, waving his hands nervously. I scanned his figure with my gaze, but I didn't notice any indication of a trauma.
Breathless, we reached the guys just in time to hear a nervous, "He's just gone".
As if not believing Daryl, Rick rushed past him, entering the empty barn. A small part of me wanted to believe that maybe Daryl really didn't notice Randall, but I knew it was grasping at straws from my side.
As if the situation wasn't tense enough, a sudden movement in the woods caught everyone's attention. With the corner of my eye, I noticed Daryl casting a short glance at me, and then at Rose, who was watching the whole situation from Patricia's tight embrace. Feeling breathless, I took out my gun with shaky hands only to see Shane emerging from the forest with blood covering his face.
I watched him with horror: his face was pretty bruised and there were many tiny scratches on his nose and forehead. The way he squinted his eyes at the sunlight suggested he might have had a concussion, so before I could think twice, I started walking towards him. Shane, however, was far from being interested in his own wellbeing, as he just waved me off with a short shake of his head, explaining the situation to Rick at the same time.
I took a sheepish step back, unable to stop studying Shane. Finally, I felt a tug on my elbow and when I turned around, I met Daryl's gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were moving from my face towards the forest, almost as if he expected Randall to just come back and start shooting at us. A sudden realization fell on me and I felt cold: he did have a gun and this scenario wasn't completely out of the options.
I swallowed, opening my mouth a couple of times to say something, but I couldn't find my voice. Before I could gather my thoughts, Daryl murmured commandingly, "Get back inside."
Licking my lips, I nodded slowly, "You be careful."
If I expected his usual, half-cocky, half-true "always am", I had to do a quick reality check, as the only response I'd met was a sharp nod. Fighting the urge to hug him, I nodded back and touched his forearm briefly. I jogged towards the rest of the group, forcing my body to move every step of the way.
When Patricia was handing Rose to me, I could see it wasn't because of the fact she thought the baby was mine to take care of; the main reason of the female passing the baby so quickly was that her hands were shaking so hard I actually wondered how she managed to hold the child for such a long time. As if understanding the gravity of the situation, Rosie remained silent, even though her hands played with the material of my shirt.
Casting one last glance at Daryl's retreating back, I forced myself to walk towards the farm. Everyone was quiet and the paleness of Carl's face told me even a kid understood the
gravity of the situation. He must have felt my eyes on him, because his wide open ones fell on me and he just stared at me wordlessly. I tried to send him a reassuring smile, but somehow, my face muscles didn't cooperate, so I moved my gaze away, pretending to check the perimeter. Rose must have forgotten about the events which took place minutes ago, because she started babbling happily to no one in particular.
The small bushes next to the house seemed to move suspiciously and I almost jumped when the wind intensified and shook them even harder. Biting my lower lip, I adjusted both the baby in my arms and the glock I held pointed to the ground in my other hand. A small noise of Hershel opening the kitchen door caught my attention and I met the old man's gaze for a brief moment before he started ushering everyone inside. I walked up the couple of stairs, obediently, still casting glances over my shoulder.
As I waited for Patricia, Carol and Maggie to enter the house, I realized Carl's eyes were still - or again - on me. Not finding the spirit to actually smile, I secured my gun and tucked it beneath my belt and grabbed the boy's arm for a moment in a weak attempt to provide him some comfort.
"Carl, come on," Lori ushered the kid, sending me a quick look and something that probably was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a thin line in place of her lips. I returned with a similar gesture and followed them into the house, looking over my shoulder one last time.
XXX
It seemed everyone tried to busy their heads with preparing the house for the night. Carol and Patricia were making some food in the dim light of a candle; Maggie was preparing some bedsheets, looking uneasily at the closed door over and over. From my spot on an armchair I could almost hear Andrea whispering something to Lori in a comforting manner, and Carl was sitting in the middle of the stairs, clearly ignoring his mother's orders on going to bed.
I, on the other hand, couldn't find it in me to move. I was sitting with Rose, who was long asleep on my lap, and while I knew I could just put her in the bed and do something, I found myself sitting in the fluffy, comfortable armchair, overthinking everything.
The more time I spent trying to figure out the situation we found ourselves in, the more gaps I found in Shane's story. I couldn't quite understand, how come that a fragile, limping boy could harm, let alone surprise, the huge man with police experience. But even if I managed to explain this to myself, I couldn't quite think of a way Randal could get out of the barn, which was locked securely and checked by both Rick and Shane regularly. While I could imagine the boy somehow climbing up if he was at his full health, doing the same with his leg still battered seemed close to impossible.
There was also one more thing, though I wasn't quite sure about that. The more I imagined Shane's battered face, the less the look of his wounds and bruises matched the description. Even if the rock was uneven and rugged, I could hardly imagine anything which would do such an extensive amount of damage on the outside without harming the inside badly. It was
something that I kept wracking my mind about, though I knew I couldn't be sure: a human's body can be a mystery, even to doctors. Still, it kept my mind so occupied that when Patricia stood in front of me, I nearly jumped. She frowned at my startled reaction, wiping her hands in a cloth, and motioned towards Rosie with her head, "Are you comfortable?"
As if on cue, a small tingling started running down my legs and I hissed inwardly, trying to stretch a bit. Patricia smiled knowingly with a wry hint to it, and gently took the baby from my arms.
"Thanks," I mumbled gratefully, slowly getting up to test my legs. As expected, they were numb, but not as bad as I thought. I moved my arm to offer the armchair to Patricia, but she just shook her head.
"I'll take her upstairs," the female explained quietly, looking at Rosie with a small, genuine smile, "No use for all of us to stay down here and worry ourselves. Someone will have to get up tomorrow to take care of the animals."
I nodded slowly, "You're probably right." I hesitated for a moment, then added, "But I'd prefer to stay down here, is that fine?"
"Of course," Patricia said quietly, gently rocking Rosie, even though it wasn't actually necessary. As I learned in the last few weeks, this kid was having a really deep sleep and it was next to impossible to disturb her rest. I bet Patricia knew that as well, but just like everyone in the room, she craved to do something. Her tone turned sheepish, when she muttered, "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd very much like to take her to my room for the night." She hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip gently. Her gaze was focused on the baby, when she added, "She eases me somehow."
"Sure," I murmured, forcing a small smile. My legs were starting to feel ticklish and I had trouble moving, but I knew I had to, so I offered, "I'll go get some diapers and her bed for you."
Patricia smiled gratefully and hugged the little girl tighter. She then turned towards Hershel and nodded to him, and he returned the gesture. I didn't have time to admire the silent communication which was going between those two, as the female addressed me again, "Thank you. I'll be in my room."
As I limped upstairs on my tickling and slightly stiff legs, I subconsciously noticed Carl had decided to go to bed after all, as his previous spot on the stairs was now empty.
The blood circulation in my legs started returning to a regular level somewhere on the first floor, and even though my still healing cut on my thigh was throbbing slightly, I felt way more comfortable than moments before. The floor squeaked quietly below my legs as I entered my room, making me wince a bit. While I knew there were no walkers nearby and there was no way in hell Randall could hear an old floor from wherever he was - I still felt obliged to stay as quiet as possible.
Grabbing the box, which was Rosie's bed, I quickly packed a couple of diapers and her bottle, which we used during the night. After a moment, I also packed an extra set of clothes for the baby, making a quiet note to self, that I should ask Glenn and Maggie to look for something bigger on their next run.
I rushed towards Patricia's bedroom, suddenly understanding everyone's need to stay busy: it did help me stop my unwanted thoughts. When I approached her room, I nodded briefly, and she opened the door almost in an instant, as if she was awaiting me on the other side.
"Hi," she greeted me somewhat sheepishly, as if noticing her own awkwardness. She was still holding Rosie in her arms and I couldn't help but wonder if it was for the baby's sake or for her own, "Thanks, can you put the things down there?"
She motioned to a small table standing nearby, and I obediently placed the box there. I turned to Patricia and forced a small smile to my face. She returned the gesture, asking quietly, "See you in the morning, then?"
"Yeah," I found myself murmuring quietly. I looked at the sleeping child briefly and left the room with a small wave.
When I closed the door behind myself with a quiet noise, I leaned on the wood for a moment. Closing my eyes briefly, I tried to compose myself enough to join the rest of the group downstairs.
A quiet sound. Something between scratching and an almost inaudible shriek reached my ears and I almost squeaked from surprise.
Would it be possible for the walkers to somehow move upstairs? I looked to the left and to the right; but the narrow corridor was empty, as far as I could tell in the dim moonlight. The sound didn't repeat, but I could hear another type of noise. Biting my lower lip, I looked at the door behind me briefly.
Deciding they were safer behind the locked door, I slowly grabbed my gun and started walking down the hall as quietly as possible. I couldn't quite tell whether I caught something from Daryl and my steps were pretty quiet, or my heart was thudding in my ears so loud I couldn't hear a thing, but from my perspective I was close to inaudible.
Even though my movements might have been silent, my heart was beating so fast I wondered if the walkers could hear it. Taking a couple of steadying breaths, I walked through the corridor, but it was silent.
Right then, a pretty loud banging sound reached my ears and I turned around so fast I nearly lost my balance. It was coming from behind the closed door, where Rick, Lori and Carl were sleeping. Hesitating for half a second, I grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand and opened the door abruptly, pointing my gun ahead only to find the space completely empty. I felt, however, a slight, cold breeze wash over me when I stood in the door, and I looked at the opened window.
It was open and a light wind was getting into the room. I approached the window slowly, silently counting the chances of biters suddenly learning how to lockpick, when I noticed something far more terrifying: a small boy was running away from the house in a hat with a wide roundabout.
My heart skipped a bit, and before I could think about my decision, I found myself cursing under my breath and crawling through the open window. Later, I would wonder why on godly Earth did I choose this path instead of running down and informing the rest where I'd be going, possibly even getting some backup from Andrea or T-Dog, but right then it seemed to be the only valid option.
When I was on the roof, I looked down briefly. How did Carl even jump down there without harming himself?
"Fuck," I murmured silently, crouching on the edge of the roof and hiding my gun in the process. Then, I turned around and grabbed on the gutter, "Just fucking hold on for a moment. I don't wanna fall."
Yeah, talking to the pipe might not be the brightest idea ever. Sue me, but first try to jump down a stair with a big wound on your leg.
Grabbing the gutter with my sweaty palms, I slid down, hanging for a moment. Unable to decide whether it would be better to close my eyes and leave everything to pure luck or control the situation, I did something in between, squinting them a little.
I landed on the wet grass with a quiet thud and a pretty loud hiss, when my wound burned worse than in the last two days, as my legs made forceful contact with the solid ground. When my eyes scanned the surroundings, it was pretty clear I didn't have a lot of time to mope over myself, as Carl's figure was moving away rapidly.
Limping a bit, I jogged behind the boy, taking out my gun once again. He heard me, because he turned around faster than I'd expect a ten year old to move and pointed a gun at me. I raised my hands half-heartedly and sent him a crooked smile. He didn't return the gesture and instead, he moved his gun down, looking at me with an emotion close to anger, "I could have shot you!"
"Yeah, well, you also could've got bitten," even though my voice was steady; I shivered slightly at the thought, the image of Carol's daughter's empty eyes appearing in my imagination, "Come on, let's get you back home."
Carl shook his head briefly, "No, I need to find my dad."
"Carl, you can't just wander away into the forest," I almost hissed, waving my gun to make a point, "Your mom will be worried!"
"She'll be worried if dad doesn't come back," he retorted quietly, his gaze moving to the side, as if he hoped his father would emerge from the trees.
"He'll come back," I offered weakly, "What if he comes back and you're not in the house?"
Carl shrugged, "I won't go far, I just want to check if he's nearby."
"Let's at least go tell your mom," I pleaded. Carl's eyes flickered to me briefly, and I could tell he was almost amused by this try.
"She won't let me go if we tell her," he said bitterly, and it was hard to argue with that. Hell, I had half a mind to toss him over my shoulder and take him back inside, but I suspected I wouldn't be able to pick him up.
I regarded the boy in front of me for a moment, trying to decide whether I admired his bravery or pitied his naiveness.
I'm so gonna die.
"Okay," I muttered, trying to sound cheerful, "Let's go find your dad then."
He raised an eyebrow at me, "You're gonna come?"
"You expect me to let you go alone?" I countered, putting my fists on my hips.
"No," he shrugged, "I thought you're gonna run to tell my mom."
Yeah, and let you run away.
"Nah," I shook my head. I started walking and when I noticed the boy wasn't following me, I turned my head and asked, "Changed your mind?"
He didn't respond, but jogged to my side and started walking with me at a brisk pace.