Months with no sign of anyone at the CDC luckily hasn't reduced their need to keep a general idea on the security cameras. They can't hold a 24/7 watch, not with as few adults as they have. Vi monitors to an extent, but she can only manage to 'see' motion and log it for their review. It is a shortcoming of technology they don't have the knowledge to reprogram.
Rick told her all about Morgan and Duane Jones and how they'd saved him. At daylight on the day Rick awoke, Brandy fiddled with the center's radio until she matches the band the men's radios monitored. She could only shake her head that Rick thought the radios alone would have the range. The emotional exchange exhausted Rick all over again, and he slept until lunchtime.
Jamie's joy at having her uncle here helped push some of Rick's grief back, the same way having Jamie keeps Brandy going each day. In the five days it takes Morgan to gather his courage to try and lay Jenny to rest, Rick sleeps more than he's awake, body still healing. When he is alert, he eats the food put in front of him and spends the rest of the time tucked next to Jamie, helping her with schoolwork or playing games.
On the morning Morgan says he's leaving King County, Rick joins Brandy to watch the cameras after breakfast. Even though Morgan will radio when he circles the city, they prepare to bring them in quickly. Morgan isn't traveling with just Duane, either. When Morgan couldn't take the shot on the walker wearing his late wife's face, a stranger did, to save Duane. There's no way Brandy can say no to someone who saved a child they didn't even know, and according to Morgan, the man has a kid with him, too.
"Was I really the first person you'd seen on the cameras since everything fell?" Rick asks, following her directions to shift between the cameras before going back to the multiple camera screen.
"Yeah. There's another group out there I make trades with, but I ran into them out in the city. I don't know where they're staying, and they don't know where I am."
"Are you absolutely sure of that?"
The look Brandy levels his way makes Rick laugh ruefully.
"I may not have been a cop like you and Shane, Rick, but I know how to stay hidden and lay a false trail. There's even fake living quarters in an old fire station about two miles away. If we had enough fuel, I wouldn't worry so much. We could lock everything down and wait out any bandits."
"But we don't." Rick sighs, scanning the cameras again.
"We don't."
Even shutting down the unnecessary functions as early as they did, there is maybe a week left of the original fuel stockpile. The CDC was never meant to function for months without resupply, but no one ever considered a situation this widespread and long-lived. Brandy's scavenging added a few more weeks, but she can't stop gathering fuel as long as they want to stay here.
The end result if the generators go down doesn't bear thinking about.
"At least you'll have more help now, and Jamie will have someone to play with. Two someones."
"There is that." Going outside on her own is risky. Having Rick, once he's fully healthy, or his friend Morgan along will be much better, and she can probably access some areas she couldn't without a second set of hands. The new guy could be another bonus.
As agreed, Morgan radios in at set milestones along his route on a channel other than the one the radios originally used. Shortly after his last check-in, the radio comes to life again. It's Duane this time.
"Dad says we're being followed."
"Describe the vehicle," Brandy asks, hoping whoever it is might be a Vato by some dumb luck.
"Gray SUV. Can't see the driver or passenger clearly, but at least two people." Morgan sounds like he's at a distance from the radio, so he must be having Duane hold it. "He's trying not to be noticed, but staying invisible is a hell of a lot harder without traffic."
Brandy thinks it over, exchanging a look with Rick. Bringing them to the CDC was the original plan since Duane is too young to trek through the streets. That may have to change. "That's not one of the Vatos' vehicles that I know about. There's the firehouse instead?"
"They'd be trapped if the followers have bad intentions, wouldn't they?"
"Not if I'm there to take care of any problems."
It takes Rick a minute to register what Brandy means. "You can't just shoot people."
"If they are putting our friends in danger, yes, I can and I will. There's no jail to put them in out there anymore, Rick. No police. No one." She doesn't want to, but with two children out there, and the Vatos have taken care of at least one lawless duo who thought they could prey on the elderly. Children are just as vulnerable.
"Let me go."
"No." When his jaw sets and she knows he's going to argue, she grips his shoulders. "You don't know the city the way I do, especially the current landscape."
"Then we both go."
Brandy sighs, shaking him slightly. "I'm faster without you. You're still recovering, Rick, and it's a miracle you made it to Atlanta in one piece. Stay here and keep Jamie and Bonnie safe."
Not giving him a chance to argue, she radios the change of direction to Morgan and his friend. She has just enough time to reach the firehouse and get to the roof before they arrive. It isn't as easy to stall arrival these days, since circling the block could end up in a dead end far worse than an alley with no exit.
But he's Rick Grimes, so of course, he follows her all the way to the more hidden service entrance. Geared up, she faces him with her hands on her hips, giving him the glare that's worked since he was the little boy she babysat when he stayed over with Shane.
"You're slowing me down. Don't make me zip tie you to a pipe for Edwin to set loose later."
Luckily, he seems to believe she'll actually do it, because she will. Being a cop doesn't mean what it used to, and Brandy's had two months of painful independence to put steel in her spine again.
Instead of the big van she uses for supplies, she unearths the little Prius that runs damn near silently. Used sparingly, the regular gasoline she's saved and treated will run the tiny car for months, and the engine lacks the rumbling of any of the diesels she could use. Using a long memorized path, she makes record time to the firehouse, praying the lack of herds in the area stays the case.
From the roof, she opts for watching through the scope, reassuring her listeners she's in place and the firehouse is clear to approach. The flat topped roof makes her job easy, and the reason this firehouse is her choice for a decoy base is that it can be driven directly through. They have enough lead on the other car to allow the new guy to get his van inside the firehouse with the Land Rover following. Morgan jumps out and closes the door after them, and both cut their engines temporarily. Just inside the open rear door, they can't be seen from the front, because Brandy stuck reflective film to those weeks ago to be able to see out but no one see in.
The SUV slows, having lost sight of the tiny convoy due to the angle of the last intersection. They know the vehicles disappeared somewhere on this block, but there's no real clue if it was down an alley or into a parking lot and quickly behind a building. Something about the vehicle seems familiar, but even with the scope, she doesn't recognize the passenger and can't see the driver. When they pass the firehouse without stopping, she trails them by sighting with the rifle, although disabling the vehicle isn't possible anymore.
Her breath catches and she reaches for her radio.
"Rick? Do you remember Lori's license plate number?"
He answers, sounding confused as hell at the seemingly random question, and it confirms her suspicion. The SUV now stopped at the next intersection, likely trying to decide what to do next? It belongs to Brandy's presumed dead best friend.
"Turn around, turn around, turn around," Brandy pleads, debating if she should shimmy to the ground and attempt a better look at ground level. Just because that's Lori's SUV doesn't mean she's alive - or Shane or Carl. It just means someone is using the vehicle, and Brandy didn't recognize the passenger for sure.
As if there's any substance to prayers, the SUV doesn't turn around, but it does reverse, backing slowly down the street. They turn into the big pay-to-park lot next to the firehouse, creeping slowly down the scattered cars to stop at one the same color as the Land Rover. Creeping to the east side of the building and sighting through the scope again, she is too afraid to let herself hope.
There is no mistaking her baby brother's distinctive profile, even with his old police cap jammed over his curls.
Glancing around the area quickly, it's still walker free, so she trusts that her whackadoodle system of making it hard for walkers to congregate here works. Eyeing the barely cracked SUV window, she yells with all the volume she can manage. "Shane Griffin Walsh, just where the hell have you been?"
Hearing his full given name shouted on some random Atlanta street shocks the hell out of Shane. Who it sounds like explains his instinct to freeze and start explaining himself, but it's fucking impossible. He saw that camp. Maybe he's hallucinating.
Glenn is looking at him, wide-eyed and tense with worry, so that rules out hallucinations. "Shouting in the city is bad, Shane. Who the hell is that?"
"A fucking ghost."
Reaching for the gear shift, he starts to throw the SUV in reverse, but visual confusion joins the auditory. She may be dressed in military gear and carrying an M4, but there's no mistaking his sister just stepped out from behind the firehouse next to the parking lot. What makes it feel real is that she looks just as poleaxed as he feels.
Fumbling with the door handle, Shane throws caution to the wind.
"You're alive," he mumbles, because he's swept her into his arms regardless of the rifle, hugging her too tight but he can't seem to ease up. The only reason he doesn't feel guilty is she's got a bear hug on him at odds with her smaller size.
"So are you."
His brain finally catches up to reality. "Jamie?"
"She's alive, Shane. We didn't go to the refugee center. Why didn't you come to the CDC?"
Letting her go enough to start running his hands along her shoulders, arms, and then cupping her face, he notes how much weight she's lost. Her words register and he shakes his head. "What note?"
"I called the day they were supposed to evacuate the hospital to tell you that my neighbor was getting me and Jamie into the CDC instead of the camp. Diane took the message and put it on your desk."
"Shane?"
Glenn sounds hesitant to interrupt, and considering he just trekked through Brandy's house with Shane, he figures he needs to give the younger man an explanation. He's out of the SUV, too, glancing uneasily in each direction.
"This is my sister," he tells Glenn. "Brandy, this is Glenn. We've been staying at the old quarry camp outside the city. I never got any note. The hospital..." He swallows hard, remembering the military turning on the patients and staff. "The hospital fell, and Rick was dead, so I went straight from there and got Lori and Carl and got the hell out of dodge."
"They're okay? Carl and Lori?"
"Yeah. Left them back in camp today. Both just fine. Jesus Christ, Brandy, they're gonna be overjoyed to see you. We thought you were dead."
From the teary face pressed to his throat as she hugs him again, Brandy thought the same of them.
"We need to get out of the street," Glenn says, looking sorry to interrupt them. "Were those cars we were following some of yours, Brandy?"
Shaking her head, Brandy pulls away from Shane. "I was guiding people into the city, but they saw they were being followed, so we changed course."
"Into the city from where?" They aren't anywhere near the CDC right now. In fact, he can't imagine Brandy guiding someone through the worst part of the walker herds to reach this spot. It may be oddly free of walkers here, but that won't last.
"King County," Something flickers across Brandy's face, a combination of joy and concern both. "But you're right. I've got it bottlenecked here where it's hard for walkers to gather up, but nowhere is truly safe. Can you come to the CDC with me? Set up a plan to get Lori and Carl and whoever else there safely?"
Something isn't quite right, Shane senses, because why is Brandy out here alone gathering up survivors? The CDC should have military support... His blood runs cold at the thought, the mental image of those executions even more vivid now than earlier.
"Brandy? Why isn't there someone here with you?"
"Because there isn't anyone to come with me," she admits, looking mournful. "The military died down to the last soldier, what few troops we were spared."
"Walkers!"
Brandy and Shane both look in the direction Glenn points, where a trio of ragged walkers are lurching forward. One is dragging a spiral of barbed wire.
"Dammit. Assholes broke through my barrier down the street. We'd best clear out before more decide to follow them."
Despite knowing he hasn't gotten the full story yet, Shane motions for Glenn to get back in the SUV. "You coming?"
She shakes her head. "Got my ride around back, and it's not one I want to misplace."
Somehow he's not surprised when he and Glenn end up at the rear of a caravan led by a dark gray Prius. There aren't many people he'd follow without more details than he's gotten, but in Shane's thirty-four years on this planet, he's trusted only two people implicitly. One is dead, and the other? He'd follow his sister past the gates of hell itself.