A Painful Place (Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 12: Tainted Meat

The next morning the group gathered around a wooden cross, situated next to the graves of Annette, Shawn, Dale and Sophia at the edge of the farm. The morning air was chilled, signaling to the survivors that winter was quickly approaching. The sun shone brightly, and cool wind whipped Tilly’s hair as she and Lana sang an old hymn Maggie said her father had loved.
When the women finished, Rick stepped forward and stood at the head of the grave, an old Bible in his hand.
“For in this hope we are saved,” he read. “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” He closed the book and looked toward the group.
“If I look a little uncomfortable holding this thing, that’s because I am,” Rick said, holding up the Bible. “But Hershel found comfort in these words. It’s hard to imagine anyone could remain hopeful in this world, but he somehow managed. He never lost faith. No matter how bad things got, he always believed there was a plan, that someday we would find the light at the end of all of this.”
“At one time, I thought that hope was foolish, that it made him weak.” Rick shook his head. “No, it made him strong, it made him brave and unafraid,” Rick’s voice faltered a little and Tilly looked up to see tears running from the corners of his eyes. “He was the bravest person I’ve ever known. When the flu broke out in the prison, he selflessly risked his life to make sure as many people as possible survived until medicine arrived. He’s the sole reason Glenn and Sasha are both still with us, and I know we’re all eternally grateful for all he did. We loved him, and he deeply loved all of us. He proved that through his actions every day.”
By that point, there was barely a dry eye in the circle. Even the members who hadn’t known Hershel were touched by Rick’s words. A few other stepped forward to share stories about the man, and they each laid a stone at the base of the cross before returning to the house to pack their things.

“We’ve decided to go with Abraham, Eugene and Rosita to Washington, DC,” Rick announced once the cars were loaded. “We’ve exhausted the supplies in this area, and we can’t just spend the rest of our lives going in circles. It’s time to move on.”
There was shock on some of their faces, but no one spoke up to disagree with the leader.
Abraham stepped beside Rick, his rifle leaned across his chest. “Our mission,” he said, “is to keep Eugene alive and get him to Washington. He will continue communicating with officials on his phone, so they will be expecting us.”
Tilly couldn’t help but notice Eugene was acting a little fidgety while Abraham spoke, holding his satellite phone tightly against his chest.
“Have you spoken to any of these officials?” Michonne asked. It appeared she was just as skeptical as Tilly.
“I have not, ma’am,” the sergeant answered. “The information they are exchanging is classified, and I do not have clearance to hear it at this time.”
She didn’t look satisfied with his answer, but stayed silent, scowling slightly at the man.
Rick explained that they would first look for a gas station so they could hopefully siphon some gas and find a map, and soon their small caravan was driving off of the Green farm and onto the highway.
Tilly, Lana, Daryl and Bob once again rode in the van, with Carol joining them this time. Two other vehicles drove in front of them carrying the rest of the group.
“So,” Lana began, “none of us are buying Eugene’s bullshit story, right?”
A chorus of ‘no’ and ‘no fucking way’ rippled throughout the van.
“Alright,” she continued, “just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”
“Why do you think Rick is going through with this?” Tilly asked to no one in particular.
“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Carol answered from the passenger seat. “Like he said, it’s time for us to move on anyway. Who knows, even if Eugene is lying there may still be some sort of safe zone there.”
“Let’s not get our hopes up,” Daryl said dryly. “Ain’t nowhere we’ve found been safe, and a big city like that is bound to be chock full of geeks. I think we’re walking into a death trap.”
“Then why didn’t you say something back there?” Lana asked.
Daryl shook his head. “Not my decision.”
Tilly couldn’t help but wonder if they were following Rick just as blindly as Abraham was following Eugene. It seemed that no one in the group was willing to question his judgment, at least not to his face.
After a while, the caravan slowed as they pulled up next to a gas station. Three cars sat abandoned at the pumps and the front window of the building was shattered.
As everyone assembled near a light pole in the parking lot, they heard Abraham whistle.
“Walkers,” he said quietly, pointing down the road. Half-a-dozen corpses shambled toward them, most likely attracted by the noise of their vehicles.
“We can handle them,” Rick responded. “Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, come on.”
Abraham followed behind them as well as they approached the walkers. When they were no more than 20 feet away, Daryl let an arrow fly into the head of the nearest one. The others broke off to take care of the rest.
Once they were dispatched, they returned to the parking lot.
“Alright, Daryl and I will go in and check the building. Once it’s clear, Tilly and Glenn will come in and help us gather anything useful,” Rick ordered. “Tyreese, Sasha, Rosita and Bob, I want you all to siphon as much gas as you can out of those cars. The rest of you keep watch. Yell if there’s any trouble.”
Tilly took her place beside Glenn outside of the gas station while they waited for Rick to give the all clear. She heard a crash, followed by the whoosh of Daryl’s crossbow, and then the men came back outside.
“It’s clear,” Rick said. “Let’s see what we can find. I’ll look for a map.”
Tilly and Glenn tucked their guns away and followed them into the store. A lone walker laid on the ground under a stack of boxes, a hole in his forehead where Daryl’s arrow once was. The shelves were already picked over, but they managed to find three large jugs of water in the break room, along with a box of granola bars, some instant coffee and a few lighters. Rick grabbed a map of Georgia as well as a map of the United States from beside the counter and stuck them in his bag.
“Nothing else to find here,” he started. “Let’s go back-“
“Rick!” He was interrupted by a frantic whisper from the front door. Tilly looked up to see Tyreese poking his head inside. “Guys, we have to move! Walkers!”
The four of them ran outside as Tyreese pointed in the direction of the walkers they killed earlier. A herd of what looked like several hundred undead lumbered in the distance.
“Shit!” Rick whispered, waving for everyone to come to him. “Alright, they’re still pretty far off, we have time. Load what you have so far into the cars and we’ll get out of here. We can stop to gas the cars when we’ve put some distance between us.”
Everyone nodded and began quickly, but quietly, shoving their discoveries into the cars.
A scream erupted from the front of the van and Tilly rushed toward it, finding Bob lying on the ground, a walker on top of him snapping at his face. A smaller herd of 20 or so had snuck up on them from the side.
“There’s more, guys!” Tilly yelled as her boot connected with the face of the walker on top of Bob. It rolled off, and she quickly jumped on top of it and slid her knife into its rotted eye. She helped Bob to his feet and noticed blood on his torn shirt.
“You alright?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Just ripped my shirt.”
Tilly turned away from him, toward the encroaching walkers. Carol, Lana and Daryl were beside her a moment later, and they fought against the herd.
“No use!” Rick yelled from several feet away. “We can’t handle them. Grab what you can, then we have to run!”
Tilly pulled her knife from the head of another corpse and bolted back toward the van, grabbing her pack and tossing Lana hers. The others did the same and then they were off, running behind Rick toward the woods.
“Come on!” he yelled as they weaved through the trees. “We need to find somewhere, a building, to hide if we can.”
They all ran for several more minutes until Rick felt they had put a decent amount of space between themselves and the herds, then they stopped to regroup and rest.
Tilly’s head pounded a bit, but she chose to ignore it.
“Here,” Carol said, holding out a water bottle.
She took it gladly and smiled at the woman in thanks.
Rick pulled the map of Georgia from his bag and unfolded it, holding it against a tree. He and Daryl studied the map, trying to figure out how they could get back to the highway eventually.
“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind them.
The group spun around, several of them raising their guns as they stood facing a tall black man dressed as a priest.
“Identify yourself!” Abraham barked, his gun pointed at the man’s head.
The preacher raised his hands in surrender. “Gabriel Stokes,” he choked out. “F-Father Gabriel Stokes. I mean you no harm.”
“Are you armed?” Rick pried.
“Only with the word of God,” he answered.
Rick motioned to Daryl to keep his crossbow trained on the man as he approached him. Without saying a word, he began to pat Gabriel from the shoulders down, checking him for any weapons. Finding none, he stepped back and motioned for him to put his arms down.
“Are you alone?” Rick asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “I have a church about a mile from here, but I’ve been alone since this began. Do you guys happen to have any food?”
Lana reached into her pack and pulled out a granola bar, passing it to the preacher.
“Bless you, thank you,” he said gratefully. “If you all are willing to spare a bit more, I could give you shelter for a couple of days.”
Tilly scanned the man with her eyes. He looked harmless and generally terrified, but she was wary of anyone who claimed to have been alone this long.
“How many walkers have you killed?” Rick asked, beginning his standard list of questions.
“None,” Gabriel replied.
Rick raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing the man, but he continued, “How many people have you killed?”
“None.”
“Why?” Rick asked, most interested in the answer to this particular question.
“The Lord abhors violence,” Gabriel answered.
“How have you survived this long without killing so much as a walker?” Daryl asked, lowering his crossbow just a bit.
“I’ve stayed close to my church for the most part,” he explained. “This is the farthest I’ve been. The outbreak hit right at the end of our annual food drive, so thankfully I was able to live off of that for a long while.”
Rick rubbed his chin as he thought about what the Father had said. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll come with you, but if you try anything I will not hesitate to kill you.”
“You won’t get any trouble from me,” Gabriel replied, beginning to lead them in the direction of his church.
“Something’s not right, Daryl,” Tilly whispered to the hunter as she caught up to him. “Ever since we’ve been in these woods I’ve felt like someone was watching us.”
“Probably just Father Useless up there,” he replied.
“No,” she shook her head. “I still feel it now.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” he said. “There’s definitely something off about all of this.”
The church was less than a mile away, and as they entered the parking lot Rick called out to Gabriel. “That’s close enough. We’ll have a look around before we go in,” he ordered.
“Be my guest,” Gabriel smiled.
Rick, Daryl and Glenn went inside the church, searching everywhere for any sign of other people or weapons while Abraham, Rosita and Carl swept the area around the building.
“Nothin’ in there,” Daryl announced when he returned. “If there was anything, or anyone, we would have found it.”
“Go on in,” Rick ordered to the group, and they all began to move their belongings inside.
“Hey, Dad!” Carl called, still looking around the back of the church.
When Rick found his son, he was staring at a shutter on the side of the building. “Look at this,” Carl said, pointing to scratches in the wood. “These are deep, from knives, not walkers.”
“There’s something he’s not telling us,” Rick explained, “but for now it’s safe. Let’s go inside.”
Night came a few hours later, and Father Gabriel brought out a few bottles of forgotten communion wine for them to share. The mood lightened a little as everyone became more relaxed, and they spoke further about their plans to go to DC.
Sasha and Bob snuggled next to each other at the end of a pew, stealing a few kisses occasionally.
“I’ll be back,” Bob said, kissing Sasha on the cheek. “Gotta go use the facilities.”
She laughed as he stood, and he leaned down to kiss her one more time, letting his lips linger longer than normal.
“Be careful!” she called as he walked toward the front doors.
“Always am,” he smiled, and then walked outside, closing the doors behind him.
As he approached the treeline, Bob turned to take one last, long glance back at the building that held all of the people he cared about. He heard a branch snap behind him, and turned just as something smashed into his head, knocking him unconscious.
__________________________________________________________________________
When Bob began to wake, he was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of smoke. He blinked his eyes, willing them to open against the bright light of the fire that flickered in front of him. When he was finally able to focus, he found himself face-to-face with a man he’d hoped to never see again.
“Hey there, Bob,” Gareth smiled, his form silhouetted by the fire light.
Bob began to panic, realizing that he was leaned against a post surrounded by several surviving members of Terminus.
“Shh, shh,” Gareth comforted, “I want you to know that this is nothing personal, Bob. We would have settled for anyone.”
Bob was disoriented, pain radiating through his body. “W-Wha-“ he croaked, his eyes catching the glimpse of something long and dark lying across the fire.
“I’m sorry, Bob,” Gareth continued, “but a man’s gotta eat.”
Bob’s eyes grew wide as he looked down at the stump where he leg once was. He looked toward the fire again, now realizing what they were cooking.
Gareth grinned maniacally as Bob put the pieces together. “If it makes any difference,” he said, holding a piece of meat to his mouth and taking a bite, “you taste much better than we expected.”
“HA!” Bob cried. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” He laughed madly in the face of the cannibal.
“What the fuck, dude?” another of the Termites questioned, his mouth full of meat. “You lost your damn mind?”
“You’re eating tainted meat!” Bob howled.
“What the fu-“ Gareth gagged as Bob raised his shirt, revealing the bite he sustained at the gas station and had hidden from the group.
“Oh, my God!” Gareth screamed, and the Termites began shoving their fingers down their throats, trying for force themselves to vomit.
“TAINTED MEAT! TAINTED MEAT!” Bob continued to scream, his insane laughter echoing through the camp.