ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ
[〝𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧?〞]
—
I THINK GLENN MAY actually be right. Catfish was the best thing I'd ever had. Granted, my favorite food before that was probably a slightly expired generic candy bar, or like, stale saltines, so maybe my taste wasn't exactly refined.
When we returned, Abraham had been knocked out of his robotic position. He now sat, fully relaxed, drinking out of a clear water bottle.
Eugene had also made a recovery. Now, instead of his heat-stroked, catatonic state, he was sitting under the makeshift shade with Maggie drinking out of an identical water bottle. The former got up to greet us, meaning her husband, who she welcomed back with a kiss right out in the open.
Abraham also got up, a surprise to everyone.
"I, uh, I'm sorry for putting you through that shit, kid." His head was bowed in disappointment, a frown across his face.
"It's alright G.I. Ginger, I've seen my fair share of fights, trust me."
"Yeah, whatever, Ankle-Biter. With that mouth I'm sure you've gotten your ass kicked before."
"At least I don't look like the before picture on a rehab facility's brochure."
Abraham full on stopped short, his head whipping backwards as he looked at me with a gaping mouth for only a short second before it was running. "You cu- yeah? Well at least I could read the words on the brochure! Didn't you drop out at- like, what? Nine?"
"I was eleven, asshole. And actually, I had the highest reading level in my grade, so if anyone's illiterate it's your hillbilly hick ass."
Rosita sighed irritated, turning around to shove Abraham around and continuing on. "Are we gonna do this all the way back to the church?"
I turned to Abraham, "yeah I think I got a few miles left in me."
"I could eat," He responded
My eyes squinted and I shook my head at him as Glenn interjected, "What?"
"It's an expression."
"It's kind of a statement really," Tara argued.
"Literally what is the difference?" Abraham defended.
"Does it really matter to y'all that much?"
"Well, actually, in programming language terminolog-"
"Eugene, shut up!" Everyone yelled in sync.
"Alrighty."
Maggie groaned, tired of the fighting and ready to get back to her group. "Just— Get in the truck! All of you!"
The group complied in a chorus of grumbles, shoving their things in the storage compartment and getting ready to leave.
"You're the smallest Chuck Nun, in the middle you go." Abraham ushered as Tara and Rosita finally got situated in the back with Eugene.
"What the hell does that even mean?" I grumbled but reluctantly crawled in next to Maggie, who was squished against Glenn. Abraham climbed in behind me, nearly shaking the whole damn thing when he plopped into his seat dramatically.
"Thirty tons and they couldn't make these damn things with a little wiggle room?" Rosita complained.
"Now if I start snoring," He paused thoughtfully, clearly some genius epiphany filling his head. "Well, I was gonna tell ya to wake me up but honestly? Don't-cha dare."
"Well then keep your drool in your mouth, mongrel."
For a minute he just stared at me, processing my words, probably trying to figure out what mongrel even meant. I almost thought the animalistic comparison had really gotten to him, but then he let out a boisterous laugh, so loud and unexpected it nearly made me jump. When he finally caught his breath from heaving out giggles, he roughly patted my shoulder. "You don't get enough credit for your whit, kiddo. You sure you're not from Rhode? They're mean up there, you'd fit right in."
"Who? America's little sweetheart? Nah," Tara piped up. "She's got that southern hospitality down."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, god that would be embarrassing. Instead I rolled my eyes as the rest of the group let out various chuckles. "Yeah, whatever."
Glenn gripped the steering wheel, then squinted his eyes in confusion as he tried to navigate the controls on the panel in-front of him. "Uh... Is there an instruction manual in the glovebox?"
"Christ, switch with me." Abraham grumbled.
—
Before long we were turning onto a dirt road, and then we came to a stop in front of the church.
I followed Maggie out, who immediately embraced Michonne. Rosita and Tara came from the other side, the latter greeting Carl with a hug. I stood awkwardly to the side, unholstering my knife as walker chatter filled my ears. Turning, I realized they were impaled by long spears sticking out of the ground, guarding the entrance. Gabriel followed my line of vision, swallowing uncomfortably when he looked at the scene marring his beloved church.
"You're back." Michonne said, shaking Glenn's hand.
He nodded, breaking the news to the three out of the loop with two simple words, "Eugene lied." Disappointment made its way across Michonne's face, and Glenn continued. "He can't stop it. Washington isn't the end."
She looked away, visibly swallowing before meeting his gaze again. "Where is everybody?"
She turned to Maggie, passing Glenn to grab ahold of her arms happily. "Beths alive. She's in a hospital in Atlanta. Some people have her but the others went to get her back."
Maggie gasped, tearing rushing to her eyes as she asked, "Do we know which one?"
"Grady Memorial."
"You didn't ditch after Washington fell through?"
His footsteps were silent, even with the gravel and fallen leaves strewn across the ground we stood on. But I felt him sneak up beside me, his flannel sleeve brushing against my bare arm, his hat that almost skimmed the side of my head due to our close height. I turned my head, thinking about whether or not I wanted to admit that I would actually regret leaving these guys. That being on my own was only going to kill me. That for once, I actually liked having company. I liked arguing with Abraham and pretending to hate Tara's bad jokes. I liked knowing that people could still have families and lovers. I liked being around someone else that almost knew what it was like to be me: someone that was worrying about having to find their next meal and fight off cannibals— alive and dead— instead of thinking about prom or failing Algebra.
"I realized I had nowhere else to go."
He nodded, and I realized just how close our turned heads were, just as soon as he seemed realized the same thing.
"I'm glad you came back."
I stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to do or say. No one had ever told me they were glad to have me around.
So I took a step back. Because however much I appreciated the company and the shelter, I wasn't ready to care about anyone more than surface level. Not in this world. Not when there was no future, no safety, no certainty.
"Who's Beth again?"
He coughed awkwardly, his eyebrows raising as he lifted an arm to scratch the back of his neck. "She's, uh, She's Maggie's little sister. Went missing when the prison went down."
"Right."
A round of cheers broke us out of our bubble as the rest of the group planned Beth's rescue party.
"We take the truck, it'll get us there faster than any rundown bitch mobile y'all got hanging around here."
"Yeah it'll scare off the crows too," Tara joked, lifting her hand for the person beside her to high-five. Unfortunately that person happened to be Gabriel, who just stared at her fearfully like she was about to hit him. She dropped her arm and let out a tiny cough, like she always did when her joke didn't land.
"Alright, let's gear up. We can meet the group in the city." Michonne concluded.
As everyone headed into the church, Tara bounced towards me giggly and I groaned.
"I saw that," Tara bumped my shoulder as she passed me on the way into the building. I stopped short, willing my blood to stop rushing to my face.
"Stop it."
Before long we were squeezing back into the fire truck, all eleven of us pressed together. Abraham was back in the drivers seat, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, and Rosita by his side. The rest of us sucked it up and hopped back seat, me and Gabriel, who had tried to convince everyone he should stay back and keep watch of the church— yeah, fat chance dude— against the doors and Tara, Carl, and Eugene in the middle. Up front, Judith babbled happily as Michonne stood her up on her knees, baby-talking her.
We'd shoved the rest of the supplies into the storage section of the truck on the outside, deciding the giant herd was too close for comfort and we'd had enough run-ins as is during our time here. Besides, Michonne let us know about Ricks plans to move on and find somewhere more secure anyway if D.C. was a bust after all.
"Aren't these fuckers 'posed to have radios in 'em?" Abraham complained.
"Well, lots of 'em have AM/FM's installed nowadays, but we did pull this baby outta Hicksville Nowhere, so, probably hasn't been updated since, well, " Eugene trailed off, .
"So, no." Glenn confirmed.
"Guess we'll just have to entertain ourselves the good ole way," Maggie chuckled.
"So, what happened while you guys were gone?" Michonne asked.
I sat back, pulling my knees up to my chest and sitting my feet on the edge of my seat as Glenn recapped our short travels. "Well, we got a few miles out before we crashed and burned, literally. Bus flipped, walkers swarmed, we fought our way out and took shelter in some book store, where we drank boiled toilet water and 'Sita, Eugene, and Abe traumatized Cassandra,"
"That was not funny," I groaned as the few members in on the loop burst into laughter, closing my eyes and shaking my head like it would make the memory go away. Again, fat chance. Unfortunately, no one was ready to let it go so quickly.
"What happened there?" Michonne smiled.
"Nothing, really. She slept through the whole damn thing." Tara explained.
"Don't know how," Glenn snickered.
"Can we move on?"
"Absolutely not, what happened?" Carl piped up.
"Don't know if you're old enough for this conversation, kiddo." Glenn teased.
"Okay, okay, tell us what happened already!" Michonne begged.
I covered my ears as Glenn recounted the story of me waking up to find out Eugene had a voyeurism thing and Abraham and Rosita didn't know how to keep it in their pants.
"She was so grossed out, turned red and everything."
"I would like to clarify that i'm not into—
"Then we found this gem, stuffed with walker guts and, as we came to find out, keeping a fuck ton of 'em tucked away. Then the heard and everything just kinda went to shit, now we're here."
"Speaking of things going to shit, can I take this thing off Maggie, it's itchy." I proved my point by fruitlessly trying to shift the makeshift cast enough to ease the uncomfortable feeling underneath it.
"That happened in the crash," Carl peaked over Tara, looking at me while he asked.
I stopped messing with it, pulling my sleeve up to show it off. "Yeah, just sprained."
"Yeah, we should probably let it breathe, just go easy on it, okay? Let me see it," Maggie gestured, turning in her seat to get a better angle. Rosita passed her the scissors we'd swiped from the book store and I dropped my feet, scooting to the edge and laying my arm over the window separating the front and back. She turned my forearm up, sliding the scissors under the tape and cutting.
I sighed when she finally removed it, pulling my arm back and relieving the irritated skin. The swelling had gone away and a purplish bruise had taken over.
"It supposed to look like that?" I held it up for her to inspect the bruising.
"Uh," she turned back, observing my wrist as I turned it for her to fully see. "Yeah, it's okay. Bruising typically starts a few days in with sprains, and it's not looking too dark. You should be good within a week."
I nodded, remembering what my aunt had told me and the sprained ankle I'd had in fifth grade after John Barton pushed me off the monkey bars. Ironically enough, he'd then tried to get me to go with him to the welcome-to-middle-school dance the following year.
"Right."
"Anything exciting happen with y'all while we were out?" Maggie asked.
"Not really, it's been us four since Rick left this morning." Michonne looked down at Judith, who had fallen asleep with her head on her chest and was drooling lightly.
It wasn't long before we were passing a line of run down cars on the other side of the interstate, left by those that once tried— unavailing— to escape the overrun city. I could see line after line of skyscrapers, some of them already seeming to decay. We passed several white markers painted haphazardly on cars and buildings and signs as we got deeper into the city.
The broken ambulances and the big 'EMERGENCY ROOM' sign indicated we were in the right place.
"You two stay here with Judith, we'll be back in a few minutes. If something goes wrong," Abraham threw the keys over his shoulder, landing at my feet. "Leave us."
"I don't know how to drive," I argued. I hated staying back, nearly defenseless in a once overrun city that now housed gangs and thrives and who knows what else, with a baby no less.
"Stick the keys in the ignition and press the gas. Don't stop and don't crash." With that, he swung his rifle off his shoulder, flipping the safety and shutting the door.
"You get used to it," Carl sighed, pulling Judith's hand away from the barrel of his shotgun resting on his back, which she was currently grabbing for, and turning her around to sit in his lap front facing.
"I'm not thrilled about it, but I'm also not eager to end back up in another box, so I'm not gonna fight it." I leaned down, picking the keys up and dropping them into my lap.
Carl squinted, "Do you ever hope for the best?" He asked playfully, bouncing Judith up and down with his thigh as she jabbered happily.
"No, not really."
He laughed.
I scooted closer to him, trying to see out of the window. The group wasn't far from the entrance, guns at the ready as they inched forward.
Then the door opened. They stopped, waiting for an ambush that never came. Instead, Rick stepped through the threshold, the rest of the group following him. Sasha was close behind, followed by Tyrese and Carol.
Then Daryl, carrying a small, lifeless girl in his arms.