A Painful Place (Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 19: The Drug Store

“You ready?” Rick whispered to the two women standing behind him, their weapons raised.
Michonne and Tilly nodded, and Rick took a brick in his left hand, his trusty Python held tight in his right, and threw it through the glass door.
Around back, Abraham flung the door open at the sound of the shattering glass and held his flashlight above his head as he entered, Daryl and Maggie close behind. He swept his beam around the room, illuminating the stacks of boxes that lined the walls.
A muffled groan came from the farthest corner of the room and he quickly turned to shine his light toward the source. On the floor sat a stocky, dark-haired man who looked to be in his forties. He held tightly to his right knee, and they couldn’t help but notice that his leg sat in a very unnatural position.
“That’s him!” Maggie whispered. “The guy we saw earlier.”
Daryl stepped next to Abraham and trained his crossbow at the stranger. The man held up his hand to shield his eyes from the light.
“You guys here to bust my other knee?” he asked gruffly.
“That’s really up to you,” Abraham answered. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell us who you are.”
“Tom Yates,” he replied. “I’d shake your hand, but I can’t really stand up to reach it right now.”
“You alone?” Daryl asked.
“Depends on your definition of alone,” Tom responded, smirking.
Abraham stepped closer to the man and crouched in front of him. “We don’t got time for your bullshit right now, Yates. You’re gonna answer our questions, or my friend over there’s gonna put a bolt in your head.”
Tom laughed in his face. “Might as well go ahead,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Can’t run with my leg all jacked up. I’m pretty much dead already.”
Abraham reached a hand out and placed it around the man’s throat. “How ‘bout this,” he began, “if you’re gonna keep being a smartass we’ll kill ya alright, but we won’t do ya the favor of shooting you in the head. We’ll leave you to turn, let you spend the rest of your un-life crawlin’ around as one of those nasty assholes.”
Tom gulped and shifted a bit under the sergeant’s grasp. “There are more of us. Not many, but they ain’t here.”
“You out on a run?” Maggie asked.
Tom smiled at the sound of Maggie’s voice. “You’re one of the ones that was in here earlier. Not the one that kicked me though,” he said as he studied her in the dim light. “Trust me, I remember that one. Redhead. I tell you what, there’s a thing or two I’d like to do to that girl.”
Maggie gritted her teeth at the tone of the man’s voice. She couldn’t place what was behind it. Revenge? Lust? Either way, it made her uncomfortable.
“To answer your question,” he continued, “yes, I was on a run.”
Just then a gun shot rang out from the front of the store. Abraham jerked his head to look in that direction and Tom saw it as his opportunity to retaliate. He reached quickly down to his side and pulled a blade from the holster on his belt.
Maggie caught the glint of the metal in the light and lunged toward him.
“Abe, watch out!” she yelled as she launched herself toward the stranger, her elbow connecting with his face.
He screamed out in pain, but held tight to the knife. She grabbed at his hand, trying to wrestle it free from him and though he managed to slice her hand she held tight, Abraham quickly coming to her assistance and getting the knife free.
He tossed it to the side, and a moment later his fist connected with the man’s face, knocking him out cold.
“Find something to tie him up,” he ordered Maggie before handing her his flashlight and sprinting toward the front of the store where several more gunshots sounded.
Daryl kept his weapon pointed at Tom as Maggie found an electrical cord and bound his hands. Once he was secure they went to join the others in the store.
“Get down!” Michonne yelled when she saw them enter through the door. The two of them ducked behind the counter, only allowing the tops of their heads to show over it as they took in the situation.
Rick sat with his back against a shelf, the others in similar positions throughout the room. At the other side of the room sat two unfamiliar figures, one male and one female. The man was blonde, a leather jacket clung tightly to his large form. The woman was petite but was carrying a large rifle. She had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Leave!” the blonde man ordered. “Just leave and we won’t have to kill any of you!”
“We’re here for supplies,” Rick answered. “We’re not leaving without them.”
From where they were, Daryl and Maggie had a clear view of both groups, and Daryl crept slowly around the edge of the counter to get a straight shot at the strangers. The man stood up and raised his pistol, aiming it toward where Rick sat.
Daryl didn’t hesitate. He raised his crossbow and let a bolt fly. It stuck cleanly in the temple of the man and his body slumped to the floor.
“You motherfucker!” the woman screamed, turning toward Daryl and raising her rifle. Michonne appeared, seemingly from nowhere, behind the woman and rammed the handle of her katana into her head, knocking her off balance and sending a rogue shot into the wall as her finger brushed the trigger. She tackled the woman to the ground and pounded mercilessly on her arm until she let go of the gun.
“Clear!” Michonne yelled, signaling to the others that they could reveal themselves.
The dark-headed woman struggled under Michonne, but she kept her pinned to the ground. Tilly approached her and pointed her pistol toward her head.
As he stared at her extended arm, Daryl could see blood running down it, the cloth of her jacket torn.
“You can’t just go around shooting people,” Tilly taunted, her finger hovering over the trigger. “That shit hurts, ya know.”
“We have your man,” Maggie said as she stepped forward. “Tom. He’s tied up in the back there.”
“Now we just have to figure out what to do with you,” Rick said dryly.
“Gonna kill me like you killed Austin?” she asked, referring the blonde man who lie bleeding a few feet away. “You kill us, the rest of our group will just track you down once they find us.”
“You’re with a bigger group?” Tilly questioned.
“That’s what I said, bitch,” she spat. “Bout twenty of us, and they aren’t people you want to fuck with.”
“Neither are we,” Rick responded, crouching down next to the woman. “We don’t like to kill,” he explained, “but I have zero tolerance for anyone who attacks my people.”
Michonne glared down at the woman underneath of her and then leaned closer, her face only a few inches from the other woman’s.
“Don’t think I caught your name,” Michonne hissed.
“Sara,” the woman responded, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Sara,” Michonne repeated, “I think you’re full of shit. There isn’t a bigger group out there, and no one is going to come after us if we kill you.”
Sara let out a guttural yell and slammed her head into Michonne’s, sending her backward. She sat up quickly and made a grab for her rifle, but Tilly squeezed her trigger. The woman fell to the ground, a trail of blood running down the side of her head.
“We need to collect what we can and get out of here,” Rick said as he stood. “After all of that noise we can’t risk sticking around much longer.”
“What about the other guy?” Maggie asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” he answered, walking toward the back of the store. “You guys gather what you can and find the others. Make it quick.”
No one asked any questions. Instead they scattered to do as he had ordered.
“Hey, lemme see your arm,” Daryl demanded as he walked to Tilly.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Bullet went through clean.”
He scowled as he helped her pull off her jacket and raised her bloody, torn sleeve to examine the wound. There was, in fact, an exit wound, so he knew she’d be fine but he couldn’t help the anger boiling inside of him.
“Fucking assholes,” he spat, glaring at the two bodies on the floor.
She laid a hand on his bicep and turned him back toward her. “They’re dead, Daryl. I’m fine. Just help me find something to stitch it up, and maybe some pain killers. It hurts like a bitch.”
He nodded and went to retrieve the things he’d need to sew her up while she explored the aisle of pain pills. She found several bottles of extra-strength ones and tossed them into her bag before popping one open and dumping two pills into her hand.
“We can find ya something a little stronger than that in here,” Daryl said as he walked over to her.
Tilly shook her head. “I can’t afford to get all hopped up on anything, not when we’re on the road like this.” She popped the pills in her mouth, chasing them with a swig of water from her bottle.
He nodded in understanding and they sat on the floor so he could take care of her arm. “This is gonna sting,” he said as he opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it over the hole.
She flinched a bit as the cold liquid burned her arm, but she remained quiet.
“You good?” Daryl asked, leaning his face closer to hers.
“Just stitch it up, Dixon. The anticipation is what’s killing me,” she answered.
He chuckled a little as he laced the thread and readied the needle. “Alright,” he began, “here goes.”
Tilly had her share of stitches since the world went to Hell, but she still couldn’t shake the nausea that cascaded throughout her body at the feeling of the needle sliding through her skin. She sucked in a deep breath, refusing to vomit. She knew she’d never hear the end of it if she did.
“Can you go faster?” she hissed as he slowly continued his work.
“Not if you want it done right,” he answered, a smile playing on his lips as she squirmed.
She turned her head to look at him, annoyed by his amusement. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” she accused. “Aren’t you supposed to be sympathetic to someone who’s been shot?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of badass?” he countered. “Sittin’ there trying not to barf over a few stitches?”
“I am not going to barf,” she said defensively.
“Then why’s your face gone all green?” he laughed.
She punched him lightly with her other hand. “It’s time for you to shut up, Dixon.”
He smiled and shook his head as he finished up. Then he pulled a roll of gauze from beside him and wrapped her arm tightly before pulling her sleeve back down.
“That should do it,” he said standing up and shoving the remaining supplies into his bag.
He offered her his hand and pulled her up, then they went to join the others in gathering supplies.
As Tilly wandered through the pharmacy, shoving anything she thought could be useful into her bag, she noticed Maggie staring at a rack of magazines, a bandage wrapped around her injured hand.
“This all seems so silly now,” the brunette sighed as Tilly walked up beside her.
“I know what you mean,” she nodded. “Celebrity gossip, fashion, diet recipes, none of that is any use at the end of the world.”
Maggie picked up a magazine and flipped quickly through the pages. “It sure was nice to be able to worry about those things instead of scavenging and killing tactics, though,” she said, smiling.
“No shit,” Tilly agreed. “You know, I once spent two hours in a drug store trying to decide what kind of mascara to buy. Today I spent ten minutes in one trying not to get hit by a bullet.”
Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Didn’t fare very well in that regard.”
“Nah, but at least I can add ‘got shot’ to my list of new life experiences,” Tilly quipped. “I guess that boosts my tough chick status a bit. To be honest, other than the fear of dying 24/7, I don’t really mind the way things are now. It’s simpler: Survive or die. I can appreciate that.”
Maggie nodded and set the magazine back on the rack before leaning in close to Tilly. “So,” she whispered, “you two seem to still be getting along well.” She gestured toward Daryl, who was tossing boxes of bandaids into his pack.
Tilly smiled and shoved Maggie playfully. “If you’re looking for juicy gossip you’ll have better luck getting it out of those rag-mags than me,” she laughed. “But yeah, he’s great most of the time. Sometimes he’s an ass, but that’s just how he operates.”
“He cares about you,” Maggie said matter-of-factly.
Tilly shrugged. “He cares about all of us. I think he just feels more comfortable around me for some reason.”
“You hens done cluckin’ over there?” Daryl yelled. “It’s time to load up!”
Tilly sighed and wrapped her arm through Maggie’s, then the two of them made their way outside.
The others had managed to find two working vehicles. It would be tight, but they’d be able to fit the whole group and their supplies into them.
Tilly tossed a bag of M&Ms she found to Carl and a smile crossed his lips as he caught them. Rick grinned at the gesture as well and patted her on the arm in thanks. When she first joined the group, Tilly remembered being amazed at how well they could communicate without saying a word. Now, she had fallen into that as well. It was comforting to feel so close to other people, and it paid off in times of danger when talking wasn’t really an option.
She climbed into the passenger seat of the dark blue SUV, Daryl sitting behind the wheel. Maggie, Glenn, Tara, Sasha and Tyreese sat in the back, supplies stuffed into the floor boards around their feet.
“Alright, kids,” Tilly mused, “everyone have your seatbelts buckled? No fighting now, or Daryl will stop this car.”
“Yes, mom!” Glenn yelled from the back.
“And you two,” she continued, turning to point at Glenn and Maggie, “none of that funny business back there. I will be doing hand checks.”
The others laughed and Daryl shook his head as they finally started rolling, following the black van that held the others.
“How far out are we?” Sasha asked.
“Abraham thinks we can make it in a couple of days,” Daryl answered. “Long as we don’t run into any trouble.”
“We always run into trouble,” Tara sighed.
“And we always handle it,” Glenn replied. “But what are we expecting to find once we get there?”
“Hopefully somewhere with walls,” Tyreese answered. “I’m tired of having to sleep with one eye open all the time.”
“Can’t get too comfortable anywhere,” Daryl said dryly. “You find somewhere safe from the geeks you’re just gonna have people coming after you to take it for themselves. We can’t ever stop watching our backs.”
“You really don’t think we’ll ever find a place?” Sasha asked, disappointment in her voice.
Daryl shook his head. “Best we can hope for is somewhere to settle in for a while, same as the prison. Nothing’s permanent anymore, though.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Tara mumbled quietly.
“Maybe it won’t be like this forever,” Tilly said, trying to restore some of the morale Daryl had just shattered. “We could find somewhere to build a community, one strong enough to fight off anything that threatens it.”
“You’re dreamin’, Tills,” Daryl replied.
“Maybe,” she nodded, “but you never know what the future holds. I mean, two years ago I thought I’d be living in my own place with a steady job, maybe a boyfriend by now, but instead I’m running around killing already-dead folk with you fine people. See? Anything’s possible.”