Guts
We make our way outside after covering ourselves in Wayne's intestines and anything else he had in his body.
Glenn actually had a hand and foot hanging off him, and I had the other of each casually stuffed in my pockets. Now that's one for the books.
We share a look between the three of us before shuffling through the alley towards two male walkers, Morales closing the door behind us with an audible slam.
The walkers in question show brief interest in us, and Glenn visibly draws in on himself. The dead only groan before continuing their stumbling through the dank alleyway. Which means it works.
I chance a look behind us where the two are practically circling the same spot. I took the chance to get a close look at Walker's behavior when not in contact with the smell of living flesh.
They're surprisingly dormant, seemingly looking for something to eat, but not going as far as to blatantly sniff it out. There is a group of humans in the building right in front of them - who have come through the door multiple times today - and they're none the wiser. Which means two possible things.
One: That our 'living smell' doesn't linger, or else the two would've gone after Morales' scent as he was there not 2 minutes ago, no blood or guts shielding his smell as we have.
Two: They seem to distract easily. Not in every case, since the Walkers at the storefront haven't relented on getting through that last door, but these Walkers seem to have forgotten entirely that humans are near.
I wonder what else I can decipher when we're safe.
I turn back to see the men getting down slowly and follow suit. We were careful not to make noise with our weapons against the ground.
Rick had his bloody axe, Glenn had a crowbar-looking thing, and I had what I think was a heavy wrench. Looked like a weird version of the spanner sets my dad had in the cellar. I also had my knife on my belt, just in case.
Not to be confused with calling someone a 'spanner'. That's an insult.
Crawling under the bus was difficult, to say the least. Holding up the metal weapon so it didn't scrape against the floor and gain unwanted attention strained my arm and slowed my crawling abilities. I swear I can crawl faster when I'm not trying to keep myself alive.
We could see the rotting feet of the dead on the other side, as well as a body pulling itself around to our left. It was terrifying, I admit. Yes, the plan worked on two Walkers, but this giant group of them? I'm not so confident.
Standing up, we begin to leave without any walkers prying eyes on us. I see out of the corner of my eye that the crawling walker was once a woman, with a purple shirt and blonde hair.
Walking down the street was nothing short of 'shit your pants' scary. Every so often a Walker would turn and sniff the air as we amble by, or if one came between two of us it would stop for a second before resuming its stumble.
'It's working.' I thought. We had been so lucky thus far that my confidence was starting to slip back into place. 'We might actually have a straight shot at this!'
Apparently, Glenn thought so too, but he decided it was a good idea to voice it. In the middle of a herd of Walkers.
"It's gonna work." He whispered, "I can't believe it."
I threw him a look that clearly said 'not the right time, shut up dumbass' as Rick whispered back "Don't draw attention..."
We continued silently.
One is never lucky for long though, it seems. Not in this life for sure.
The sky grows dark as thunder clamors above, and droplets of rain suddenly become a downpour, soaking us to the bone and washing off the blood and dead smell from our coats.
A thunderstorm? In the middle of the day, are you shitting me America?
We try not to panic and continue walking at the same pace as before, but the unexpected shower had drawn the attention of the dead as they become more aggressive, clearly trying to tell whether we were food or friend.
Glenn, once again voiced his thoughts - like seriously, you're cute and smart, but are you really dumb enough to talk while we're playing chicken with things that want to eat us? - drawing more attention towards us than before.
"The smell's washing off." He blurted in a panic, "Isn't it? Is it washing off?"
He threw me a look that I knew as petrified, as I was feeling the exact same, keeping my eyes on every walker and the grip on my spanner tight.
Rick tried deflecting Glenn's panicked question, but as a walker passes him and he gets the chance to look behind us, he finally shares the same look that Glenn and I had.
'Well, maybe." Rick nods before a Walker decides we're alive and throws itself at him, who in turn brought his axe down, splitting its skull.
"Run!" I yell, smashing a Walkers cheekbone as I swing my spanner at its face and send it to the ground.
We take off down the street towards the chain-link fence, killing (hopefully) every Walker that gets close. I get to the fence, and chuck the spanner over before climbing the fence. It was hard, trying to grip the wet metal links with wet latex gloves.
Somehow the three of us got over before the Walkers got to us, we shed the grimy clothing and sprinted towards the white truck.
Glenn goes for the keys as Rick and I turn around to see walkers pulling themselves over the fence.
"What the fuck?!" I cry over the mix of groans and heavy rain.
Rain like this I had only seen in movies and every few years in England. Until I came to America and saw rain like this every few nights depending on what state I was in.
Rick shot the Walker before it got over, along with some others that got too close to the top.
Glenn finds the keys and calls for us, and we turn to see the keys fly mid-air towards us.
I catch them and we race to the van. I climb in with Glenn behind me, Rick on the driver's side. There were only two seats so I threw myself into the back and shoved the keys in Rick's hand as Glenn shuts the door on a Walker.
"Go, go, go, go!"
We speed off before any other Walkers catch up.
Rick tells Glenn to 'raise' his friends to get down to the front of the store and be ready, which I'm guessing meant to tell them.
He told Glenn that we'd draw them away. How? With Noise.
_____________________________
Rick spots a car on the side of the road and pulls up next to it. We clamber out of the van and he smashes the window with Glenn's crowbar, which sets off an alarm and he hotwires the car. Glenn climbs in and speeds off as me and Rick jump back into the van and I take the passenger seat.
We speed back to the store, where Glenn slams on the break, getting the attention of the horde before Tokyo Drifting the pretty red car back and away, the Walkers following closely behind.
Thanks to Glenn, we had an opening at the store, which we quickly took, sliding round the bend and reversing into the loading dock. Rick jumped up and out of his seat before I could, opened the back, and banged on the store dock door.
I heard shouting from inside as I swap into the driver's seat and get ready to step on it. Rick climbs into the passenger seat where I was not a minute ago as the others jump in.
Morales signals for me to punch it as he grabs onto something to steady himself, and I oblige. We drive off as he pulls the back closed, cutting the noise of the dead at the same time.
It felt like we'd barely scraped by there, not a single casualty, and I let out a relieved sigh, chancing a glance at the group behind me, who were all staring at T-dog. Everyone but Merle, who wasn't in the van.
Fuck.
"I dropped the damn key." T-dog admitted guiltily.
One casualty.
There was nothing we could do now, no going back to that store, no saving Merle Dixon.
Andrea asks where Glenn was, and Rick explained what had happened to the group, who I hear chuckle lightly behind me.
Morales comes to the front to point me in the direction of camp and sighs at our forlorn faces. Merle was a twatsack, but he was still a person.
"Best not to dwell on it." he sighed, "Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back..." I know it's true, but it's still a horrible reality, nobody caring whether you lived or died. I felt like that while I was alone. "Except maybe Daryl."
Ex-Fucking-Scuse me, Daryl? Is that who Merle meant when he said Darylina? I thought he meant a woman.
Rick voiced my question by reiterating the name
"His brother."
Merle had a brother back at camp. Fuck, another Dixon. Is he gonna beat us for leaving his brother? I'll have to fish my pistol out of my bag for when we get back.
I turned to ask about my bag as Glenn speeds past, alarm blaring. "Whoo-hoo!" He hollered, along with how much fun he was having.
"At least somebody's having a good day." Morales chuckles.
I smile and turn to him as he watches out the front window.
"Morales, did you get my bag? It was on the roof next to the tools." I ask as I look at him, and his face visibly winces.
"T-dog," he calls behind him, "Did you grab the tools and the last bags?"
At this question I know it's a no. T-dog was the last in and on top of that he's injured. My life - or what was left of it - was in that bag, photos, my phone, my notebooks, extra clothes, and ammo for my rifle. And my rifle was left too.
I keep driving, silently mourning the loss of my only possessions, and the last link I had to my best friend.
A/N
I don't have a schedule for this story. I don't even have a sleep schedule, its 3 am right now.
At least now we have a valid reason for Meg to go back to the store with Rick and Daryl ;)
Also, maybe next chapter will be the meet-cute, or rather, hate at first sight?
Depends on how I'm feeling when I write the next part I guess.
:)