Red River Blue
Chapter 9
Harley watched as Michonne stepped forward, slicing down several walkers at a time with her sword. I need to get a sword like that, Harley thought to herself. She had a good sized knife and a handgun in addition to the bow and arrow she favored. But she couldn't take down three walkers at a time with any of her weapons.
Rick gave them a whistle and the two women headed into the building behind him and Carl. But inside they found nothing but an empty room where it was obvious that loads and loads of weapons had been stored. Harley kicked into a stray bullet with the toe of her boot. She picked it up and stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts, using her other hand to cover the underside of her ass that she was pretty sure was hanging out the bottom of her shorts.. If she knew she was going on a run today, she would not have given her good clothes to her mother to be washed. Now she was stuck looking like a post apocolyptic stripper. Carl had loaned her his jacket. The sleeves were too short, but at least it covered some of her arms and most of her cleavage..
"There's a few other places in town we can check," Rick said. He sounded about as disappointed as Harley felt. It felt like by the law of averages, something should have worked out well for them by now.
"Places with as many guns as are in here?," Michonne asked. Rick shook his head. "We need as many guns as were in this room," the woman added. They were getting ready to go to war. And they were already badly out manned. There was no way they could do this without guns. If this run came up a bust, they were going to have to leave the prison and try to move somewhere out of the governor's reach.
"This really sucks," Harley announced, kicking a metal rack halfway across the room with her boot. It slammed into the wall with a loud crash and Rick gave her a dirty look.
"Quiet," he hissed. Harley gave him an halfhearted shrug before she turned around and trudged out of the building.
Rick led the way down the street, but they were only halfway into town when they started seeing strange things. Wooden stakes that were set up in circular formations. Small animals in cages dangled in the center, drawing the walkers in.
"Is that a cat?," Carl asked. Harley put a hand against the boy's back, shuffling him along and telling him not to look. The walkers were stuck on the wooden stakes, making them less of a threat. So the small group left them alone as they squeezed through the small opening between the wooden spikes.
"I don't like this," Michonne announced.
"Yeah, this place is giving me the creeps," Harley added. Someone had obviously set up shop here. And since the animals in the cages were still alive, that meant whatever crazy person had put them there was probably still alive too. She didn't want to end up in a cage herself. In fact she was starting to think she wanted to say fuck the weapons and get the hell out of this town while the getting was good.
They walked about another block before they started getting shot at. Michonne's arms came out, slamming Harley and Carl back against the side of the closest building. Rick was shooting back at the gunman, who Harley spotted on top of one of the buildings. She pulled her handgun out and took aim. Stepping away from the building, Harley squared up her feet and held her gun in both hands, getting the man's head in her sights. She fired. It wasn't a direct hit, but she grazed the side of his head and the man fell back onto the roof.
"Got that fucker," she announced. "That's what you get for shooting at us, dickhole!," she shouted. Michonne grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the alley and around the back of the building the man had been shooting at them from.
"He might not be dead, so be careful," the woman told her. Harley nodded and climbed up the ladder behind Michonne. When they got to the rooftop, the man wasn't dead. But the bullet graze to the side of his head had knocked him out cold. Harley kicked his rifle away from him and slung it over her shoulder. Finders keepers. This was a nice ass gun too. All fancy and shiny black with a scope on the top. Michonne took the rest of his weapons and pocketed them. Then she pulled the mask off his face and pressed two fingers to the pulse point in his throat.
"We should shoot him dead before that cop gets up here," Harley said. She could hear Rick and Carl on the ladder. When Michonne made no move to kill the man, Harley pulled her handgun out and leveled it at the man's head. Rick swung over onto the roof before she pulled the trigger.
"Hey, hey, wait," Rick hollered, "I think I know him." Harley didn't shoot, but she didn't stop pointing her gun at the man either. She didn't look much like her father at first glance, but Rick could see Daryl's brother there plain as day in the expressions on her face. And in her eyes. They were blue, but insead of bringing to mind cornflowers or a cloudless sky, they reminded Rick more of cold rolled steel.
"Then why was he shootin' at us?," Harley asked. This was getting more ridiculous by the minute. Now they had to leave this guy alive because Rick thought maybe he knew him. He just tried to kill them. She didn't like it, but decided it wasn't worth an argument.
"I don't know but I mean to find out," Rick told the girl. He stared at her until she lowered her weapon. Then he took the zip tie Carl was handing him and bound Morgan's wrists together. Harley wandered away, like the scene had suddenly become boring to her. Michonne pushed in a door that led down into the building and Harley followed after her with her gun up.
By the time Rick had dragged Morgan's body down the steps and into the place where he must have been living, Harley already had a large duffel bag out, loading it up with guns and ammo. Michonne was eating out of a bag of chips, crunching loudly.
"Hey, we aren't just going to take his stuff," Rick told them. Michonne ignored him and stuffed another chip into her mouth. Harley turned and made the Merle face at him again.
"This stuff ain't his," Harley said, "he jus' took it from that locker." She heard the deal Rick made with her mom. So as far as she was concerned, a fourth of this was hers. And she was taking it. Rick could do whatever he wanted with the rest. She turned back around and started poking through a container of bullets.
"It's not like one man needs all this," Michonne said, trying to ease the tension. Rick flopped Morgan down on the bed and took his pulse again. Michonne did have a point. Morgan had no need for an entire arsenal. He was only one man. And they really needed these guns. Harley tossed an empty bag at Carl and told him to start packing. He looked at his dad first, but when Rick didn't voice an objection, he did like the older girl told him and started loading up.
"Don't take his food," Rick cautioned. When he turned back towards Morgan, Michonne slipped a peanut butter power bar into her pocket. Then she grabbed an empty tupperware and started loading it up with guns. By the time they were done packing up the guns, Morgan was still passed out. Rick wanted to stay until the man woke up, so Michonne took the kids to go look around the rest of the town for anything useful.
They needed guns. But they also needed baby supplies for Judith. Formula and a crib at the very least. Diapers and clothes would help too. They stopped at a camping supply store first. The door was already broken in. Probably by Morgan. All the useful things had been taken, but there was plenty of junk still lying around. Whoever came in and looted must have had no need for women's clothing, because that section was untouched.
"Score," Harley called out. She yanked a good looking pair of camo pants off the rack. Her size was hard to find since she was tall and thin through the waist. These were nice pants too. Better than her mom could have afforded before the turn. They had lots of pockets on the sides to stash stuff in. Harley toed her boots off, watching where she stepped to avoid the broken glass that was strewn about. Setting her bag down and whipping the belt off that she used to hold her weapons, she wiggled out of her shorts and let them drop to the ground. Then she pulled her new pair of pants on.
"Much better," Michonne said, offering her opinion up. Harley smiled and strapped her belt back on, adjusting it so her handgun was easy to reach. She shoved her feet back into her boots and tightened up the laces. She turned when she heard Michonne swear under her breath.
"Carl's gone," she hissed. The woman glanced towards the door and then looked back at Harley. The girl gestured towards the door.
"Go after him," she said, "I'm just goin' ta grab a few things and I will be right behind you." Michonne hesitated a moment and then went jogging out the door just in time to see Carl disappearing around the corner down the street. She took off down the street after him.
Harley poked through the rack, taking another pair of pants in her size and grabbing a smaller pair that she thought would fit her sister. Then she started looking for a shirt. She found a black one in her size that said All I care about is bow hunting on the front above a picture of deer's antlers. She pulled her tank top off over her head and dropped it on top of her bag. She was taking the new shirt off the hanger when she smelled something wrong. It wasn't the smell of a walker. But more like the smell of an unwashed living person. Bad B.O. is what she smelled. Coming at her from upwind.
Harley spun, her hand reaching for the gun at her hip. But she was too late. The man she had smelled caught her by the wrist, twisting painfully until she dropped the gun. It clattered to the ground near her boots. She froze, staring at the man and sizing him up. He was filthy dirty. Even his teeth looked dirty, like he hadn't even tried to clean them in weeks. He moved in close enough for her to smell his breath. It smelled like something had crawled into his mouth and died. He had big eyes, like he might possibly have been something close to good looking if he wasn't so smelly and dirty. His dark hair hung in his face and his forehead was all cut up. But not like he fell and hurt it, more like he had tried to carve some kind of design into it himself and done a piss poor job of it. It sort of looked like a wonky letter W.
The man was slightly taller than her, and wider in the shoulders. But he also looked like he was skin and bones under his clothes. He had not had a decent meal in a long time. Harley assesed all this, knowing that the man would probably have an intial burst of energy, but tire out quickly if he had was as starving as he looked. He was bigger than her, but maybe not stronger. The trick was going to be staying calm enough to let him get in close.
"What do we have here?," the man asked. He sounded like he was talking more to himself. His eyes roamed over her body, lingering on all the exposed flesh. She had always had a more athletic looking body, hard with muscle. But heredity had eventually caught up with her and her breasts had swollen up so large that she had to wear a regular bra with a sports bra on top when she played field hockey. That's where the man's eyes lingered the longest. On the creamy firm flesh of the tops of her breasts that curved out of the top of the practical white cotton bra she had on.
The man reached for her, his hand closing down on her breast and squeezing painfully. He smiled, thinking that since she hadn't yanked away yet, she wasn't going to object to what he was going to try and do to her. The man had a gun on his belt, but she doubted he had any bullets left. Harley leaned back slightly, smiling back at the man. Then she jerked forward, slamming her forehead into the man's face. She felt the crunch of his nose and yanked back. Then she headbutted him again as she brought her knee up into his groin. The man fell to the ground, trying to clutch his face and balls at the same time. His nose and mouth were gushing blood in a steady pulse.
Harley grabbed the gun off his hip and snatched her own gun up. She tucked her gun away and pressed the button to release the clip on his gun into her hand. Just like she thought. No bullets. She chucked the man's gun at him. It hit him in the head with a bonk and bounced, landing on the floor a few feet away. Harley pulled her leg back and mule kicked the man in the gut. That's what he got for thinking he could rape her. Sick fucker. She retrieved the shirt she wanted from the floor and pulled it on over her head. Then she stuffed her shorts, tank top, and the pants she grabbed for herself and Wren in her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
The man was starting to recover from the beating she had given him and as she headed out of the store he yelled at her.
"You little fucking bitch," the man hollered, "I am going to fucking kill you." That stopped Harley in her tracks. She was going to just let him be, but he had to go and threaten her again. She pulled out her handgun and walked back into the store.
"Yer goin' to kill me huh?," she asked the man. He didn't really look at her so much as the gun she was pointing at him. He put his hands up, but his words had already sealed his fate. "See how far you get like this," she suggested. Then she shot him. Not in the head. In the knee. The dead would take care of the rest.
The man screamed and howled in pain. He also started swearing and cussing at her again. Like he was going to do anything to anyone. He would be lucky if he lived though the rest of the day. Harley just ignored him and headed down the street in the direction Michonne and Carl had gone, humming to herself as she wiped the blood off her face with a hankerchief.