Chapter 17 CH: 16 Truth or Dare
A few evenings later, Rick extends an invitation to the Brownfield family to join him for a warm and intimate dinner at his home. They greet each other warmly in the sitting room before heading to the dining area. Mrs. Brownfield compliments Rick on his seating arrangement, noting that he has placed Michonne between them instead of sitting across from Daryl and his son. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Michonne quietly whispers sharply "mother," causing both Mr. Brownfield and Rick to laugh in response.
Rick entrusted the kitchen staff and head cook to plan the dinner menu. He gave his approval for the seven-course meal, not knowing what would be served. All he requested was that it be impressive.
As the first course was served, a delicate crab cake with a tangy sauce, Rick watched as Carl played with his food, barely touching it before placing his fork on the plate. This is followed by a rich and creamy butternut squash soup. As they all enjoyed the comforting warmth of the soup, conversation flowed easily around the table. Mrs. Brownfield regaled them with stories of her latest gardening conquests and pointed out that the conservatory end of Rick home is in a major need of pruning back or the ivies would get overwhelming.
Carl shows no interest in the soup and doesn't bother to taste it. He half heartedly pretends to take a few spoonfuls, but Rick easily sees through his act. Rick signaled for the next course to be brought out for Carl. The timing was perfect as they all enjoyed their crab cakes with the refreshing arugula salad in something tangy. A dish of raw meat aspic is placed in front of Carl and both Daryl and he caught a glimpse of the bright yellow in Carl's eyes as he grinned with excitement. Rick stole a quick glance at The Brownfield, but Michonne and her parents were too busy enjoying their chicken to notice.
When the main course arrived—a perfectly seared filet mignon with a side of garlic mashed potatoes and buttery asparagus—everyone's eyes including Carl lit up with delight. By this time they were all engaged in light conversation while Rick couldn't take his eyes off of Michonne. She looked stunning in a lavender dress that left little to the imagination with its revealing neckline and elegant design. Rick was mesmerized by her beauty, but he resisted the urge to reach out and touch the delicate fabric draped over her shoulders. He spoke sparingly, content to just listen and nod his head as Carl excitedly talked about his new set of ray guns, stealing glances at Michonne every chance he got.
Just as a dessert course was about to be served, Michonne opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could escape her lips, caretaker Dale burst through the door, panting heavily from exertion. The urgency in his eyes sent a shiver down everyone's spines.
"Rick! Daryl!" Dale gasped, trying to catch his breath. "There's a herd of about twenty zombies heading straight for our property line!"
"Alright," Rick said, immediately jumping into action. "Dale, get everyone to safety. You two" – he glanced at Carl and Daryl – "grab your weapons. We'll meet by the front gate."
"Damn it," Michonne cursed under her breath, glancing down at the lavish lavender Victorian dress she wore. Her mother had insisted on it for this dinner, but now it only seemed to hinder her. Fingers twitched toward the fabric, tempted to cut away at the long skirt for more freedom of movement, but she thought better of it – there was no time.
As Dale guides The Brownfield family towards the back of the house, Mrs. Brownfield's hand shoots out like a steel trap and clamps down on her daughter's arm. "Michonne," she says in a deceptively calm tone that sends shivers down her spine. Knowing better than to argue with her mother when she speaks in such a controlled manner, Michonne begrudgingly follows their lead, her heart pounding with unease.
Rick ran down the stairs, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he called out to Daryl and Carl, his voice was steel, betraying no fear as he bellowed, "Ready?"
"Always, Dad," Carl's determined voice echoed.
"Did you have to ask," Daryl said gruffly.
The three of them spilled out onto the front lawn, weapons raised, ready to face the encroaching undead. The air was thick with tension, their eyes scanning the dark horizon for any sign of movement.
"Here they come! Remember, back to back!" Rick shouted, and all hell broke loose.
Zombies appeared from every direction, their decaying bodies shambling forward with alarming speed.
"Stay together!" Rick commanded, his voice barely audible above the guttural moans of the dead.
Dale urgently ushers them into the back room, and quickly leaves to help with the danger outside. Michonne's frustration builds as she feels the restrictive fabric of her dress and knows she could be a valuable asset in this situation. The suffocating weight of the fabric adds to her restlessness as she paces back and forth, scanning for any sign of a threat. Her mother's voice breaks through her thoughts, calling her over to sit beside her. As she approaches, Michonne notices her father has his gun at the ready, a grim determination etched on his face. Taking a deep breath, Michonne finally sits down next to her mother, who grips her hand tightly for comfort. Fear flashes in her mother's eyes and Michonne can feel her own heart racing with adrenaline. She smiles at her mother, leans in closer and returns a reassuring squeeze as they wait for whatever may come.
"Keep pushing them back!" Rick yelled, slashing through another zombie like a man possessed. "We can't let them get any closer to the house!"
Rick takes a quick glance at Carl, who is running with surprising agility despite the danger they are in. Rick's brief moment of relief is shattered as he sees a walker almost sink its teeth into Carl's arm but he dodge it before slicing it head clean off in blink eye speed.
They cut a swath through the undead horde, their swords and machetes flashing in the moonlight. Each swing brought them closer to victory, and with every fallen zombie, the tide began to turn in their favor.
"Dale we got this, alert the neighbors!" Rick instructed as they fought, sweat beading on his brow. "We don't want anyone else caught off guard!"
"Got it!" Dale called back, his focus unwavering even as his arms grew heavy from exertion running south to alert their closest neighbors The Walsh's.
Finally, the last of the zombies fell, leaving only the panting breaths of the living in its wake. As one, they lowered their weapons, surveying the carnage around them with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
Carl's voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with excitement. "We did it," he said, unable to contain his elation. "I felt so alive and quick. Did you see me?" He turned to face his dad and Uncle with a huge grin on his bloody face, "I can't help myself; I have to do this."
Before Rick or Daryl could ask what he had to do Carl suddenly let out a howl. Daryl rolls his eyes and Rick laughs.
Carl's howling stops, he turns to face his father and demands, "Why didn't you inform me that Uncle Glenn is a vampire?"
Rick stops laughing and casts a conflicted glance at Daryl before resting his eyes on Carl. He let out a heavy sigh and pushed his soaking hair out of his face. "Yes, he's a vampire. But we couldn't tell you because it wasn't our place to do so. Our focus was on getting you back and escaping from The Saviors' stronghold."
"And taking down Negan." Daryl added.
Rick nodded in agreement. "Yes, that too."
"But why couldn't you have told me before?" Carl demanded.
"Because it never crossed our minds," Daryl replied, "And the time was never right," Daryl added, his voice gruff but gentle. "We couldn't take the risk. It was for your own safety, Carl."
Carl felt a surge of anger building up inside him.
"Before you say anything, know that both you and Michonne were never in danger," Rick quickly interjected, holding up his hand to stop Carl from lashing out. He could see the hurt in his son's eyes and knew he had every right to be upset. "We were going to tell you when the time was right...Glenn and Maggie were planning on it."
"Besides," added Daryl, "we've seen some strange things out there – a vampire ain't the worst of 'em. We're still a family, no matter what."
Carl's anger simmered down as he listened to his father and uncle's explanations, "Fine." Carl says. He knew in his heart they were right, only Uncle Glenn could tell him not them. It was something but the revelation still stung.
They stood there covered in the aftermath of the brutal fight, they had just survived the adrenaline of the battle fading, Michonne emerged from the front door, Rick noticing Michonne walking towards them quickly whispered that Michonne doesn't know and not to say anything, Carl nodded his head.
She approached the group, her eyes flickering with a mixture of relief and concern, "Is everyone okay?" Michonne asked, her voice steady despite not being able to help them.
Rick turned to her, "We're all fine."
"Yeah, fine," Carl replied, his tone somber. "Just processing everything."
'What an odd response.' she thought.
Carl's response was lackluster and Michonne couldn't help but feel that something was off. She scanned the surroundings, looking for anything out of ordinary, everything seemed calm and normal yet she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease though, as Carl's behavior seemed odd to her. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, trying to hide her concern in her voice.
Carl forced a smile and replied, "I'm fine, really." He proceeded to share with Michonne his experience fighting off the dead with quick reflexes and agility.
Rick's listen in quietly but his resolve hardened as he surveyed the dark terrain beyond their property line. Dale has not returned. He signaled for his son and Michonne to retreat inside, while he and Daryl head towards the Walsh house in search of Dale.
As Michonne and Carl head towards the house, and Rick and Daryl head toward their neighbor's property Michonne couldn't shake the feeling of something secret lingering in the air.
With a foreboding stillness, Scream of Lucille glided through the darkness like a menacing predator, its shadow looming large as it flew quietly through the night sky, a dark silhouette against the moonlit clouds.
Negan leaned forward, gazing into the darkness of the night. He needed some time to think. The engine of Scream of Lucille humming softly. His thoughts drifted back to the recent events that had unfolded, his encounter with Rick and whatever that was that ambushed him and his crew in the woods.
How many times has he lost now? Twice? Damn it!
A bead of sweat trickled down Bud's forehead as he watched Negan's rage-fueled swings. He swallowed hard, hoping the captain wouldn't notice his mounting fear.
"Negan, maybe we should—" Bud began, but his voice cracked, betraying him.
In a sudden fit of rage, Negan swung around with his bat raised and struck Bud in the face, the barbed wire cutting into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Blood splattered onto the deck, and Bud fell to his knees, clutching his mangled cheek.
"Shut up!" Negan snarled, eyes blazing with fury. "You're all useless!"
Bud whimpered, his vision blurred by tears, blood streaming between his fingers.
"Take this fool downstairs," Negan barked, pointing at Bud with the blood-stained end of his bat. "Let Phillip patch him up. And someone bring me Alpha – I want answers now!"
"Y-yes, Negan," Gavin stuttered, rushing to help Bud to his feet and quickly descended into the bowels of the ship.
Negan's crew hurriedly scurried around the deck, avoiding his angry gaze as he paced the deck, his boots thudding rhythmically against the wood. He's livid, veins bulging at his temples and sweat glistening on his brow as he swung his barbed wire baseball bat through the air, cursing at his crew.
"What in the goddamn hell was chasing us in those woods?" he barked, teeth clenched, "I want answers, you useless bunch of fucking morons!"
The members of Negan's crew stop whatever they were doing and shift nervously, exchanging uneasy glances among themselves; they tried to come up with an explanation that wouldn't further enrage their volatile leader.
Arat stepped forward cautiously, her voice careful and measured. "We... we encountered a group of persistent survivors."
Negan's eyes narrowed dangerously, his eyes scanning the darkness of the cloud as he processed this information, the grip on Lucille tightening. "Survivors, huh?" he mused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, looks like we've got ourselves some new playmates."
He turned to his crew, his tone shifting from anger to excitement. "Round up the troops. We're paying these "survivors" another little visit."
"Negan" Dwight ventured hesitantly, swallowing a knot of fear that threatened to choke him. "It seemed like something unnatural, beyond our understanding."
"Unnatural?" Negan scoffed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You think I don't fucking know that? This is Alexandria, not some fairy tale land, and we're surrounded by decays! Of course it's something unnatural"
That wasn't what Dwight meant but he digressed instead seizing the opportunity to relay the horrific news about Simon, "About that, Negan?" Dwight said, "There's been an incident with Simon and his crew."
"What now?" Negan growled, his grip tightening on his bat.
"Simon... he's dead," Dwight revealed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "His whole crew, too. They were poisoned, their skin eaten away by whatever it was. By the time we found them, they'd already turned." The memory made his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat. "But it was poison for sure, their flesh was dripping off their bodies like molten wax."
"Damn it! Fuck!" Negan roared, slamming his bat against the railing, splintering the wood. "I should have never let that idiot out of my sight!"
"Negan," Dwight interjected softly, knowing the danger of speaking up but feeling compelled to do so. "We need to be even more vigilant now. Whatever's out there, it could be coming for us next."
"Vigilant?" Negan sneered, his bat making a lazy arc through the air. "You're damn right we need to be vigilant! I want this ship on high alert! And you," he pointed at Dwight with the tip of his bat, "find out who's responsible for this – and make them pay!"
Dwight nod his head and couldn't shake the image of Simon's and crew rotting melting flesh from his mind. What if they were next?
Code note Hello, I hope you're all doing well and hope you're still with me. I told myself; 'Self, you really should get back to your story.'
Great news is that I am.
Even better news is that I am working on the next chapter.
But the bad news is that my story took a turn away from my original outline somewhere between chapter 13 - 15 and now I find myself trying to figure out how to bring 'Never Surrender' in the upcoming chapters. Yikes but I'm optimistic.
In re: to this chapter - i didn't check my work so if its shoddy I apologize and I will try to do better in the next update.