Chapter 4.
After lunch, Andrea joined Rick, Hershel and some others, whose names Rick was still learning, in the garden - now on its way to becoming a field. Under Hershel's supervision, they worked together to plant the seeds of what would eventually become their main food source.
Andrea's wrists were still bandaged where the cuffs cut into them, so they found her some gloves with the other gardening tools to keep the dirt out of her wounds. She winced occasionally as certain movements pulled on her injuries but didn't complain, completing the tasks Hershel assigned her without much discussion.
Standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the neat rows that they'd already sowed, Rick was pleased with how much they'd accomplished in such a short time. "It's really coming together."
"All we need now is some livestock," Hershel agreed, "and we could have fresh eggs, milk, chicken, eventually even some bacon, beef."
Rick broke into a grin at the thought of eating real food for a change. They'd been living on canned goods and whatever vermin Daryl could catch since the farm. "What I wouldn't give for a real steak."
The effort of socialising in the cafeteria must have worn Andrea out because she'd retreated back into herself since they'd been out there. Rick hadn't even realised she was listening until she piped up: "I know where we might be able to get some. They had some chickens at Woodbury, pigs, a couple of cows. I don't know if anyone's been feeding them or if they're even still alive, but if they are, they'd do more good here than they would there." It was the most she'd spoken all afternoon.
It sounded like exactly what they needed to turn the prison grounds into a real farm. "What d'you think?" Rick asked Hershel. "Is it worth the risk of going back there?"
"Could be the answer to our prayers," Hershel agreed and Andrea looked pleased.
A plan started formulating in Rick's mind. They couldn't afford to wait too long or else the animals would be dead for sure. "I'll put together a team. We'll go at first light," he told them. "Who knows? Maybe we'll all be having eggs for breakfast tomorrow."
He started back towards the prison to make the arrangements.
Andrea jumped up, too, pulling off her gloves and brushing the dirt from the knees of her jeans as she trailed after him. "I'm coming with you."
At first, he thought she meant to talk to the others, to share her intel. But when he saw the resolution in her eyes and the set of her jaw, he realised that she meant to Woodbury.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he insisted, hoping he could talk her out of it. "You're supposed to be taking it easy."
She was still recovering, physically and emotionally, from her last encounter with the Governor. Who knew what taking her back to the site of her trauma would do to her?
Of course, as he'd come to expect with her, that wasn't the end of the discussion.
"I know my way around. I can show you where everything worth taking is," she continued and he couldn't deny that she had a point.
Having her there as a guide would make it easier for them to get in and out. Michonne had a rough idea of the layout, but she hadn't spent as much time there.
He hated to bring it up, not wanting to trigger her, but he had to say it. "What if the Governor's there? He just tried to kill you. What's he gonna do to you if he gets his hands on you again?"
He hoped that would be enough to scare her into staying put.
But none of that worked with Andrea. She was too courageous for her own good.
She blanched at the thought but didn't back down. "Please, Rick. Let me help. I owe everyone that much."
"I promised you when we brought you back here that I'd keep you safe from him," he reminded her. "Now you're asking me to take you back into the belly of the beast?"
He didn't like it. In fact, he wanted to just forbid it, but he knew she would never accept that.
"The only way any of us will ever be safe from him is if he's dead," she insisted with a coldness that surprised him. He wasn't used to hearing her talk like that, but it made sense. He'd want the Governor's blood, too, if he were her. "Maybe we'll get lucky and we can kill two birds with one stone."
Rick was sceptical that it could be that easy but he could see that she needed to believe that.
"Okay," he conceded, because what choice did he really have? He couldn't physically restrain her to keep her there. He wasn't the Governor. "But I want you to stick close to Michonne, Daryl or I just in case. Don't go anywhere alone. When we get up to the prison, I'll show you our arsenal and you can pick out a gun."
He wasn't sure what happened to hers. He figured the Governor must have confiscated her weapons when he locked her in that room.
He took her to the armoury, where she tested the weight and feel of a few handguns before choosing one similar to the one she had carried at the farm.
He watched her check the chamber and reload it with confidence, the way Shane taught her. She'd always had a natural talent, but from her quick movements, he could see that her proficiency had improved in the time she was out on her own.
When she was done, she moved to tuck the gun into the waistband of her jeans, but he offered her a proper gun belt like the ones he and the others wore instead.
As she clipped it around her slim waist and holstered the gun at her side, her shoulders lifted, and she stood up taller, already looking less broken and vulnerable, more like herself again. It wasn't until that moment that he realised how much he'd missed her.
On their way out, he caught her eyeing off the last rifle in the rack.
Months ago, with very little training, she'd managed to graze Daryl from halfway across the farm. He thought if she tried to shoot a man from that distance now, it would be a kill shot.
Maybe what she needed now was to not feel so helpless. He knew she hated being a victim, hated relying on others, especially the men in the group, to protect her.
"You can take that one too if you want," he told her. "You're the best shot we have. It'd be a shame to waste that. Now that you're back on your feet, I'd like you to start helping out with watch duty."
As he expected, she brightened at the assignment, rewarding him with a grateful smile. "Thanks. I was going out of my mind working in the garden."
He laughed. "I was hoping it'd be therapeutic." It had been for him.
He took the rifle down for her and she peered through the scope, testing it out. He had to admit, it looked good on her, like she was born to it.
She loaded the rifle too, flashing him a wry grin as she slung the strap over her shoulder. "So is shooting things."
At sunrise the next morning, Rick, Andrea, Hershel, Daryl and Michonne piled into the prison bus and made the drive back over to Woodbury.
The town was eerily quiet when they rolled up to the gates. Rick pulled up as close as he could and he and Daryl hopped out to open them. There were a few stray walkers shuffling around the vicinity. They dispatched them without much effort to clear a path, tossing the bodies to the side of the road.
The gates were still unlocked from when they evacuated the remaining residents earlier. They drove inside, sliding them shut behind them to keep the rest of the walkers from following them in.
Now that everyone had fled, Woodbury had become a ghost town, the main street, once teeming with life, now devoid of it.
Andrea sat up straighter in her seat as the bus crept along, on high alert, scanning the buildings for any sign of her would-be killer.
Rick wondered if she was regretting her decision to come along now that they were here. He still wasn't convinced that it was a good idea to bring her, but she was right - she was the only one of them who'd lived there long enough to know her way around.
Rick took the bus as far into the centre of town as it would go and then parked it in the middle of the street. They all scrambled out. Andrea was the last one off, still looking a little skittish, clutching the strap of her rifle.
"You take Michonne and Hershel and start gathering up the livestock," he told her, hoping that giving her a mission would help her stay focused. In and out. That was the plan. None of them wanted to be there any longer than they had to. "Daryl and I'll do a sweep of the place, make sure we're alone."
She pointed out the animal enclosures - on the outskirts of town where the smell wouldn't bother the residents - and Michonne and Hershel started walking in the direction she indicated. But rather than go with them, she hung back, grabbing Rick's elbow before he could walk off.
"If you go to his apartment, could you get something for me?" she asked, lowering her voice so the others wouldn't overhear.
He waited for her to go on.
"I left some clothes there. Normally, I wouldn't ask, but they're all I have. I lost everything else at the farm. I would go myself, but…"
He'd told her not to go wandering around Woodbury alone, and even if he hadn't, and they knew for sure that it was safe, he doubted that place held pleasant memories for her now.
He felt bad for her, arriving at the prison with nothing but the clothes on her back, which were still stained with her blood after she'd almost died in them. Not to mention her walker friend's. "Where?" he asked.
She shifted uncomfortably, averting her eyes. "The bedroom. In a knapsack. That's if he hasn't tossed it out already."
Like he had her.
"If I see it, I'll bring it back here for you," he promised.
She looked relieved that he wasn't going to make a big deal of it. "Thanks, Rick. I was too afraid of him by the end to go back there," she admitted, seeming to feel that she owed him an explanation. "He didn't exactly take kindly to me leaving him."
"I'm glad you got out of there when you did," he told her, squeezing her shoulder, even if it had still been a little too close for comfort for his liking.
In hindsight, he should have tried to convince her to stay with them at the prison instead of just telling her to be careful. He shouldn't have let her leave with that asshole after he ended their peace talks by demanding her best friend's head on a platter. Surely if she knew, she wouldn't have.
"I should have left sooner," she told him, echoing his thoughts as she turned to follow the others.
He waited until she caught up to Michonne, then headed in the other direction after Daryl.
Rick and Daryl tried the Governor's apartment first, in case he was still holed up there, but it was deserted. As far as Rick could tell, he hadn't been back there since the battle. The dirty dishes in the sink were days old and the map he'd used to plan his assault on the prison was still spread out on the table. Rick was stunned to see his sheriff's bag with the rest of their guns sitting beside it. He scooped it up and went to check the bedroom.
Andrea's knapsack was still there, forgotten, on a chair in the corner. He recognised it by the clothes spilling out of it. He stuffed them back in without looking in case there was anything in there she wouldn't want him to see and swung it over his free shoulder.
After they finished searching the Governor's building, they checked the surrounding ones too, going from room to room, but they didn't encounter another soul, living or dead. If he was still somewhere in Woodbury, he was well-hidden and didn't seem interested in a confrontation.
When they rejoined the others at the bus, they were loading the smaller animals on in crates, along with some opened bags of feed. The livestock looked healthy enough. They must have had access to other food sources while they were left to their own devices.
"He's not here," he told them.
Andrea looked simultaneously crushed and relieved.
Rick felt the same way. He hated the idea that a threat like the Governor was still out there, but he wasn't sure they were ready for another attack so soon after the last one. Andrea certainly wasn't.
"But I did manage to find this," he told her, to take her mind off it, handing her her bag.
She brightened as she took it from him. "Thank you, Officer," she joked. She sniffed the collar of her shirt. "These ones are starting to get pretty ripe and I can't keep borrowing things from Carol."
She'd been so down since she woke up, Rick was glad he could do something to make her more comfortable while she settled in at the prison.
He remembered his other discovery. "Look what else I found." He showed them the sheriff's bag.
"No way," Daryl said, coming over to get a closer look. "It's the same one."
Rick grinned. "I thought I lost it back at the farm."
"You did," Andrea agreed. "I picked it up. It saved my life."
They packed the bus with as much as it would fit: not just the livestock, but food, medicine, clothing - anything that looked like it might be useful. No one wanted to have to make another trip.
Andrea was walking back to the bus with Rick, carrying a box from the pantry, when they passed the mouth of the street that led to the 'workshop'.
She paused, her eyes drawn to it in morbid curiosity. The door was hanging open like it was calling to her. She shuddered.
Rick followed her gaze up the street. "You don't need to think about that anymore," he told her when he saw what she was looking at, putting his hand on her back to lead her on. "Come on, let's get you home."
She stayed rooted to the spot. "It's all I think about," she admitted. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back there. Trapped. Helpless. Waiting to die. "I need to see if it's really like in my nightmares." Maybe then, she could put it behind her. "Will you come with me?"
She felt safe with him by her side. He was so protective of her, of all of his people. If only he'd seen her outside the prison that day. He wouldn't have let him drag her back there.
She set the box down and started up the street towards it.
Rick said her name in a warning tone, and she knew he wanted to argue, but he fell into step with her when he realised he wasn't going to be able to dissuade her.
When they reached the building, she slid her gun out of her belt and pushed the door open the rest of the way, following the hallway down to the end.
The room was bigger than she remembered. Less claustrophobic and threatening. There was the chair, with the remains of the handcuffs still hanging from its arms. And the chains that were meant for Michonne. The pliers she'd used to free herself and kill Milton.
But otherwise, it was just an empty room.
Milton was still there, lying on the floor where she left him in the pool of his blood. "I have to bury him," she told Rick, looking around for something to wrap the body in. "Help me, please?"
Milton didn't have anyone else. Not after the Governor turned on them both. She couldn't leave him here to rot. What if Rick and the others hadn't come for her, and she was never found? That could have been her, too. Whatever was left of her.
"We can take him back to the prison and do it there," Rick agreed, and she nodded, gratified that even if she couldn't save him, she could still get him there.
He went out into the hallway and came back with a tarp, helping her lift Milton onto it.
"I saw him at the negotiation," he told her, crouching beside her as she carefully folded the tarp around the body. "His name was Milton, right? Who was he?"
Andrea rubbed her shoulder against her eyes to clear away the tears. "He was the one who told me what was going to happen to Michonne. He helped me escape." Both times. She was only alive now because of him. And he was dead because she'd told him he couldn't look the other way. "He didn't deserve this."