Reviews:
BabySlothXYaoi- I feel like Rhys definitely would argue with Karen about burning the romance section, she 100% would be against it! Very glad you liked it! I love the road trip crew, and getting Abe's background sprinkled in throughout is so nice... I think he and Rhys are more similar than most would think. Aha, poor Sean! He's getting some mentions since Rhys is doing a lot of reflecting atm. It's almost funny how much backstory I have written for Rhys and Sean and both of their respective families... I'll probably never use all of it, but it's getting in there every now and then. I would horde socks in the apocalypse for sure, since they're so easy to lose! Thanks for you're lovely words as always!
Guest- So happy that you like him! He definitely needs a lot of love at the moment! :)
Huge thank you to notmuchmoretosay for giving me a second pair of eyes on this chapter! GO check out their newest fic- No Sanctuary.
On the road, I think about school. I think about how much I hated it. How much I hated Phys Ed. I'd probably be good at it now, all the running and jumping. Things I thought were pointless in school. Suppose I was wrong.
The Fire Truck lasts longer than we all thought it would, almost four hours. Four hours where we didn't need to worry about being bitten or scratched or punched or kidnapped and forced to betray our friends.
It was nice.
Now we've all gathered around while Abraham fixes the truck, Tara and Glenn standing guard at either end, Rosita giving tips to Abraham, while Maggie sits on the firetrucks backstep with Eugene.
Lunchtime is coming up. We don't have anything to eat for lunch, but it is nice to pretend we do. It gives us something to look forward to.
I thank Glenn for giving me the time with his pocket watch as he stands guard at the front of the truck.
"I'll get one of my own soon," I tell him, "It's important that someone keeps track of it."
Glenn lets a brief smile across his lips.
"What?"
"Nothing," he shrugs, "I used to know a guy who said something along those lines."
Glenn takes a short moment in his own head. I can see a good memory behind his eyes.
"He said... um, it was important to keep time so that you don't have to always worry about it. You, erm, forget time for a moment, so you don't spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Something like that."
"Faulkner," Eugene's voice calls to us from the rear of the truck as he sits, reading the same book he had been reading in the library.
Glenn nods, "That's the one."
A long while back, Sean and I had been raiding a small town called Encino in New Mexico. The shops had all been picked clean, except for one; a butcher shop. We found knives and canned beans, enough to keep us going for days, maybe even a week. We thought we'd hit the jackpot.
High on the find, we made the mistake of searching the meat locker. The funny thing was that the smell wasn't the worst part. It was terrible- like nothing I'd smelt before, but you can imagine what rotten meat smells like after a year. You can prepare yourself for it.
What you don't prepare for is the heat. When we cracked it open, warm air had washed over us like a desert storm. It stuck to our skin, and when we retreated outside, the New Mexico air had cooled us down. It took weeks to wash out the smell, longer to forget the heat.
I thought that was going to be the worst experience of my life. At least when it came to rotting flesh.
But once again. The end of the world proves me wrong.
Something foul plagues the air.
Glenn and I smell it first, but it doesn't take long to find its way back to everyone else. Their sickened groans serving as confirmation.
"Whatever's making that stench, it ain't nothin' nice," Abraham poked his head from the fire truck, "We're not stoppin'."
"Erm, we're stopped," Tara points out.
Not apricating her humour, Abe takes off along the splintered road. Towards the stench.
I find myself debating if it is worse than New Mexico, but as we all draw closer, I realise the question isn't 'Is it worse?' but rather 'How much worse?'
A haze settles over us as we reach the top of the road, and the land past it peeks into view.
Then we see what's producing the fume.
A vast stretch of farmland sits on either side of the dusty road as it stretches into the distance. Unlike most of the farms we passed on our way here. This one isn't empty. I've never seen so many in one place. At first, I think they could be people. Maybe there's a festival being held by the farmer and his wife. Maybe there will be home-cooked meals and fresh cider from the orchard to wash it down, with folk music being played by a local band of aspiring musicians. But the only sound I can hear is the white noise of the dead as they fester on the fields like dead crops. I feel that heat, the one from the meat locker.
I follow after Glenn as he starts the walk back to the truck.
"I will not lie down."
"Abraham, let's go," Rosita's words fall on deaf ears as the man mumbles.
"I will not abase."
"Abraham, let's get out of here," she tries again. Everyone stands and watches. Waiting.
"I will not give up the ship."
Maggie steps towards him.
"We gotta go," she says plainly.
Abraham's shaking his head aggressively.
"No. No, we don't. They can't hear us, and they can't see us. Not from here. We're fine."
"Yeah, this is the definition of fine." Somehow, I doubt Tara's dry humour is going to work.
Glenn looks like he wants to reason with Abraham. But he's unable to see the monologue brewing beneath his moustache until it happens.
"You got a shitstorm behind door A and a storm of shit behind door B. If you're lucky, it's walkers or a shot-up truck. But sooner or later, you get cornered. You wind up stayin', and you wind up killin', ain't that right, Rhys?"
"Hey, leave him out," Maggie snaps.
I don't know what to say. Scared to speak.
"Why?" Abraham barks back at her, "he gets what is on the line. That's why he's here. That's why we're all are! We don't go back. We can't go back."
"I'm not talking about going back," Glenn tells the fuming man, "We just need to go south a few miles."
"NO." Abraham knows he's fighting on all sides now, everyone pitching in against his suicide mission.
Eugene says his piece, "We already hit a full stop 'cause of an air filter compromised by innards. That will happen again."
"Then we'll hit 'em with the hose."
Tara tries her best, "The tank is empty, Abraham."
"If we floor it-"
Glenn attempts to find common ground, "We still hit them! They still slow us down, and then they stop us!"
"I'm not saying we just go straight!"
Maggie lets out a deep sigh, "That's the way the road goes."
"We can get through! I know it! And that means we are not going south, going around, or going back!"
"No," Rosita's voice cracks the thick ice surrounding Abraham. Shattering his defence, "They're right."
Abraham's nodding.
Agreeing?
No.
He marches back along the road, grabbing Eugene's arm and dragging him towards the truck. Everyone's shouting at him to stop, voices merging into one argument.
"Abraham!"
"What are you doing? Stop!"
"Let go of him!"
"I'm not gonna let you do this."
"Yes, you are."
Tara tries to hold Abraham back. Hitting the ground hard when he pushes her aside.
Glenn and Rosita try as well. Both of them being thrown from him with little effort on his part.
Rosita slams to the floor, letting me pull her to her feet to try again.
"I TOLD YOU, DO NOT TOUCH ME!"
"LET HIM GO!"
"DO NOT TOUCH ME!"
"ABRAHAM!"
"I'm not a scientist."
"YOU DO NOT TOUCH ME!"
"GET OFF HIM!"
"I'M NOT A SCIENTIST!" Eugene cries at us.
Everyone freezes. As if Abraham's ice is spreading through us.
"I lied." Eugene's face is hidden behind his hands as he shakes.
The trees selfishly hold their breath in anticipation.
"I'm not a scientist. I don't know how to stop it. I'm not a scientist."
No one speaks. Eugene's words leave us starstruck.
Was it all a lie?
It can't be.
He said it was true.
Bob died believing it was true.
Rosita's voice is shaking as she speaks, "You are a scientist. I've seen the thing that you can do."
"I just know things."
"You just... 'know things'?"
Glenn's repetition of Eugene's excuse somehow makes it worse.
"I know I'm smarter than most people, I know I'm a very good liar, and I know I needed to get to DC."
"Why?"
Maggie sounds devastated.
"Because I do believe that locale holds the strongest possibility for survival, and I wanted to survive. If I could cheat some people into taking me there, well, I just reasoned that I'd be doin' them a solid too, considering the perilous state of Houston, the state of everything."
"People died trying to get you here..."
Tears are coming from Rosita. I've never seen her cry. I feel like in this world, that's when you become closest, letting others see you at your lowest.
"I'm aware of that- Stephanie, Warren, Pam, Rex, Roger, Josiah, Dirk, and Josephine... and Bob. I lost my nerve as I grew closer. For I am a coward, and the reality of getting to our destination and disclosing the truth of the matter became some truly frightening shit. I took it upon myself to slow our roll."
"The bus."
Everyone looks at me, having found my voice.
"At the church. You wanted to fix the bus yourself. Did you-"
"I did," Eugene is keeping eye contact with me. Avoiding Abrahams.
"Glass in the fuel line. It was meant to stop, not flip. I was looking for time to finesse things. But now I realise there are no more agreeable options."
Eugene takes a long breath at the mercy of our own.
"I was screwed either way."
Eugene then looks to Tara.
"I also lied about T. Brooks Ellis liking my hair. I do not know T. Brooks Ellis. But I did read one of his books, and he seemed like the type of guy that wouldn't blink twice at a Tennessee Top Hat."
Maggie goes to touch my shoulder but hesitates, not sure if I'll cry or explode at this revelation. Rosita notices this, giving me a look that I can't face. Not right now.
The idea of my dad being at the end of the line had been a strange one. The potential of seeing him again. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but now knowing I won't... It feels impossible, like something I didn't ever have has been stolen from me for the second time.
Lost in my head, thinking about what comes next, I hear the sound of Abe's gun clatter to the ground. Then the noise of bone connecting with flesh, as Abraham swings his fist into Eugene's face, knocking him out cold.
He hits him again, not letting the unconscious man fall. Eugene's head slams into the truck's windscreen behind him with a resounding bang.
The fake scientist topples to the ground, a sickening crack as his face greets the asphalt.
Maggie and I are beside him in seconds, turning him onto his back.
I look up to see Abraham's giant imposing figure approaching to finish the job.
I don't know what to do.
I don't need to do anything.
Because Rosita steps between him and us. Her fingers brushing the grip of her pistol. Her hand is shaking.
Tara drops beside Maggie, "Is he-"
"No," Maggie cuts her worries off before they settle, "he's breathing."
"Rhys, get the medical kit from the truck," Maggie urges me.
I do, taking the long way round to avoid Abraham. Who is kneeling on the ground at the back of the truck now, looking to the sky for answers.
"Is he going to be okay?" Glenn asks, his eyes darting between Eugene and the broken man at the far end of the fire truck. I'm not sure which one he's referring to.
"He has to be," Maggie responds as she and Rosita tend to his face. "We all do."
A/N
Hope everybody enjoyed it!
I forgot to mention in my last notes, but I actually put a little fear the walking dead reference in the last chapter, so ten points to anyone that picked up on that!
Reviews and Feedback are always welcome!
:)