Chapter 11 – How Not to Go Boom
Jenner monologued, and eventually, Stevie couldn't help herself.
She laughed.
Said laughter cut through the scientist's heated pontification and everyone else's anger and panic and drew all eyes, and said eyes were filled with various levels of exasperation and outrage.
After just a few moments, she mirthfully defended, "Oh, come on. I can't be the only one who thinks it's hilarious that the man swore to his beloved genius saintly wife on her deathbed that he'd hold on for as long as he could and he managed, like… a month? Two?" She paused to cackle again. "Yeah, dude, I'm suuure Mrs. Dr. Creepo would be real proud that you confused as long as I can with until the gas runs out and saving humans from extinction might involve more than getting drunk alone in a cushy dungeon." She shot him some jaunty finger-guns before adding, "Bonus points for deciding that your sad little tantrum of a suicide should take out a bunch of innocent kids instead of a shit-ton of walkers."
When the frustrated and indignant expressions veered more toward confusion, she continued, "Cuz if I were sitting on a bomb and also had a walking-corpse-infestation problem and a death wish, I'd rig the outdoor speakers to blast awesome tunes and thus attract and take out as many of said corpses as possible. Y'know, a little public service as my final act rather than murdering some of the last living remnants of my own species. But that's just me. I'm practical like that."
The haze of hopeless grief and manic righteousness seemed to evaporate from Jenner's countenance, the man appearing to comprehend the depths of his own stupidity and feel well-deserved remorse, embarrassment, and outright shame.
But fuck that guy. Seriously. Stevie had no intention of pandering to the milquetoast dumbass whose pity party had blinded him to reality and the repercussions of his actions. Hell, even with the promise he'd made to his wife and the knowledge that he might literally be the only person left in the entire damn world with the capacity to one day understand and cure the disease, Jenner just didn't feel like bothering.
"Yo, VI," Stevie called out, flashing the suddenly nervous scientist a mean grin, "Got any protocols for locking out a suicidal admin?" That was just common sense, right? A building with an actual self-destruct function had to also have contingencies for human dangers, and a disgruntled and/or unstable government employee was waaay more likely than a global zombie apocalypse.
There was a brief pause before the tinny voice replied, "Permissions revoked and reassigned. The highest-ranking government official and thus new admin is Jacqueline Prescott."
Jacqui and many of the other adults stuttered and flailed in shock, the cops looking incredibly insulted that neither had been picked for the head honcho position. (It was pretty funny that sweet little Ms. Jacqui from the city zoning office technically had more clout than either of the backwoods donut-munchers, but the teen couldn't say she was at all surprised.)
Daryl and Michonne looked proud and laughed in their quiet, stoic, unassuming ways, though Mama seemed ready to keel over from embarrassment.
"Super," Stevie cheered, glancing at the clock and once again feeling pleased that she'd made sure to schedule a few hours for exiting; she'd known the process would end up getting dragged out by drama and stubbornness and stupidity. "Glad we got that taken care of. As I was saying earlier, everyone should grab all their shit so that we can leave before we get blown the fuck up. The supply bags are up top and ready for loading, and VI helped me identify the closest Humvee that's likely to run. Anything else I can clarify for the responsible adults in the room?"
That earned her some blank stares in return, her mama letting out a mortified groan of "Stephanie Candace."
"Candace," Jenner breathed, suddenly staring at Stevie in a way that made all the menfolk twitch toward her with clear intentions to shield her from the gaze and Mama actually push both her daughters behind herself and glare. Apparently oblivious to the tension resulting from his incandescent weirdo energy, the doctor pleaded, "You of all people should want to stay. With your condition and your medication needs, how long do you really think you're going to last out there?"
Wow. Rude.
Before the deranged asshole could say more, probably about the quick and painless death by fiery explosion he was trying to sell, Sophia shrieked in a way that Stevie had never heard from the girl and lunged at him, possibly to tear out his throat. "Don't talk about my sister like that!" the feral little beast snarled, thrashing in Rick's arms when the startled cop halted her attempted attack.
"Hey, it's alright, Soph," Stevie soothed, grabbing the girl away from the cop and hugging her tightly as she calmed to suspiciously wet, shuddery wheezing. "Just ignore him," the teen declared. She didn't care at all about the comment. Being insensitive was the least of Jenner's flaws, and it wasn't like he'd said anything untrue. Deep down, Sophia likely knew that, too, which would explain her extreme reaction. "He's socially braindead and having a very stressful day," Stevie defended. "Maybe he'll feel better when he wakes up."
There was barely a split second for almost everyone to look confused again before a loud crack made them all jump and Jenner dropped like a marionette with severed strings. Behind him, grinning maniacally and holding up his rifle in an unmistakable just clobbered a guy position was Merle. With a deep belly laugh, he challenged, "What? Girlie told me 'fore we came in here ta be ready ta knock the crazy bastard out." He looked at Sophia in particular and softened his deranged smile as he added, "Nice diversion, kitten."
Sophia blushed and held on tighter to Stevie's middle. The girl hadn't been aware of that particular contingency plan, but her rare outburst had indeed been well-timed.
"And on that note," Stevie piped up, "Are we done now? Just cuz I left some extra time in the schedule doesn't mean I want to spend it dealing with pointless bullshit instead of, y'know, escaping the imminent explosion." When she got only more shocked and horrified stares, she shrugged and directed, "Somebody better grab the doctor. He's too valuable to leave behind and, as of now, on a seventy-two-hour hold." Still, no one was reacting, so the teen sighed, "I'm not sure how many different ways I can say this. Move your asses."
That finally got everyone going. Jacqui ordered VI to open the sealed door, and the lemmings scattered back into the residential section to pack their own bags. Well, Merle, Daryl, and Michonne had heeded her earlier warnings and were already packed and thus didn't need to scamper. Although all the kids were also packed, Carl let himself be dragged along by his parents, leaving just the Dixons, Michonne, Andre, Gavin, Hazel, and Sophia with Stevie and Bruno and the unconscious doctor.
A quick and silent exchange between the brothers had Merle and his overall injured state placed in charge of wrangling Jenner, and the gruff old redneck accepted a pair of zipcuffs from Stevie to aid the job.
Very soon and with a bounce in her step and her faithful doggo at her side, Stevie led her small group along the path to freedom.
xxXxx
Jenner woke almost as soon as they hit the lobby and, disgruntled at being essentially kidnapped (though Stevie would argue "restrained for his own safety" or "commandeered for the sake of humanity"), he smugly announced that the outer doors wouldn't open, that he'd told the group as much when he let them inside.
Before Stevie could scoff at the jerk and counter that VI had already informed her about and helped her reverse the doctor's efforts to disable the outer doors (ostensibly to cut the power draw by a tiny fraction but more likely to ensure that Jenner wouldn't get cold feet about his planned suicide and attempt to run out of the building at the last minute), various menfolk began freaking out and pounding on the glass with everything from fists to guns to axes to chairs (What the fuck, T? Really?). Jacqui didn't even try ordering VI again, the woman apparently having forgotten her new powers. The teen struggled to be heard over the din, and since she wasn't pressed for time, she huffed and crossed her arms and waited for the idiots to calm the fuck down (or exhaust themselves) and listen.
What she did not predict was that her mama had been walking around with a live grenade in her purse and would meekly, too quietly for Stevie to hear, offer it back to Rick, the idiot who'd lost track of it in the first place, who almost immediately shrieked at everyone to take cover. He sprinted to the glass, pulled the pin, set the explosive, and turned to flee.
Unfortunately, he set said explosive near one of the piles of bags that Stevie and her henchpeople had spent all night preparing—not one of the ones with live ammo or loaded guns, thank fuck, but in the chaos, Stevie couldn't remember exactly which supplies she was about to lose. Also, Rick "Has Anyone Actually Checked This Asshole for Brain Damage?" Grimes lacked the reflexes to get clear of the blast radius before said blasting occurred and sent him flying through the suddenly smoky, dusty, nearly unbreathable air.
Coughing harshly and shielding hysterical children while the Dixons shielded her in turn, Stevie just knew that her plan of a stealthy and profitable exit from the doomed building had been blown to smithereens along with the huge panes of glass, the remnants of which were coating their hair and skin and clothes and probably the insides of their lungs as well.
Definitely in shock, Stevie did what she did best: salvage a disaster.
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The CDC arc is incredibly stupid. I'm not in the mood to type up a full rant of all the ways it doesn't make sense, but I think we can agree that there are a lot of them. And don't even get me started on the grenade. Rick lost a whole-ass grenade. And Carol was just, like, Oh, cool. Free grenade. My darkest theory is that she kept it as a way to kill herself and Sophia if they got cornered by walkers or Ed or anyone else. I think most normal people who found a random grenade in some dude's pants would (a) scream, (b) be furious at being randomly handed an explosive, (c) want to get away from the incredibly dangerous item, or (d) all of the above. Pulling a finders keepers and carrying around a grenade is unhinged but also kind of on brand for Carol, even at such an early stage. As Stevie of the future will probably remark at some point, "The best thing my mama taught me was speak softly and carry a grenade in your purse."
Review, please :)