We pack enough food, water, fuel, and blankets for two nights, just in case something happens. Rick gives us enough ammunition for a week. I tell him I really don’t need that much, I plan on using my knife, but he insists. Every time he’s nice to me I want to throw up in my mouth because I don’t deserve his kindness. Or anyone’s kindness for that matter.
Hanna is the only one who hugs me before I leave. “Remember to always looks behind you,” she warns.
I stiffen at her touch and tell her I’ll be safe.
While Glenn drives, I’m in charge of the map. Which sucks. I don’t have the slightest idea how to read a map. All of the closest towns have been emptied so the one we’re heading to is two hours away. We stick to the highway mostly, a couple side streets here and there when the highway becomes blocked. As I stare out the window I see a few walkers pass by.
“So who were you with before you joined us?” Glenn asks, breaking the silence.
I really do not enjoy answering this question.
“Jayson and Sara. They were a young married couple,” I answer, hoping that’s enough for him.
“Your journal said you ran into cannibals.” He slows the truck down as we weave between wrecked cars on the highway.
“Yeah, we did. They all wore these yellow bandanas. Like a gang. It was weird,” I say.
“Wow, uh, that’s hard. I’m sorry,” he says, turning to look at me for a few seconds.
“Why is Natalie so against supply runs? I mean it’s kinda something you have to do now,” I change the topic.
“Her husband, Jack, died a few months ago on our last run. She doesn’t want anyone to go on them anymore,” he explains solemnly.
I don’t say anything. I now remember Hanna telling me about her dad. I should have remembered and put it together why Natalie didn’t want me or Glenn to go.
“We’re really good at finding happy things to talk about,” I finally say.
He starts to laugh. His laughter is contagious as it vibrates within the small truck cab and I begin to laugh too. The sound of my own laughter sounds foreign to me.
“Sometimes I wonder if there are even happy things left to talk about, you know?” he says.
“How did you meet Maggie?” I attempt, knowing I’ll get some type of reaction.
He immediately smiles.
“You’re good,” he teases. “She lived on the next farm over. When her dad died she came to Natalie’s farm, and then I guess you could say it was love at first sight.” He keeps smiling as he recalls the memory.
His smile is really sweet.
“In your journal it sounded like you really cared about that Jayson guy?” Glenn says. Just the sound of his name makes my heart rate quicken. Then it makes my stomach sink because he’s not here anymore.
“Yeah, I did.” I don’t really want to say any more about it.
“You said Sarah was his wife though, right?” he asks. He must have read my entire journal to figure out the affair Jayson and I had.
“I never said it was right,” I say. “I’m not trying to be rude, but can we not talk about him?”
As we continue to drive, I continue to learn more about Glenn. His parents were immigrants and he was two when they came to Atlanta. In high school, he was not the stereotypical smart Asian everyone assumes him to have been and he didn’t meet his parent’s high expectations.
After graduation, he decided to get a job as a pizza delivery boy until he figured out what he wanted to be. He tells me Maggie is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and that sometimes he’s grateful for the apocalypse since he never would have met her without it. I like hearing him talk about before. Before the world ended and people started eating people. It gives me hope that maybe someday life will return to the way it was.
“So what’s your story?” he asks as we pull onto a side street.
I tell him that I grew up in Athens. When I was twelve my mother left my dad with someone she met at work; she didn’t try to fight for custody of me. I was thirteen the last time I saw her. In high school, I was a runner and got invited to a few parties here and there, but most nights I stayed in with a friend or two. If I got caught with any type of alcohol I’d get my scholarship taken away. I spent my freshman and sophomore year of college running at the University of Georgia, with an undecided major. Telling him about college makes me think of Ryan and I pause for a few moments telling my story.
“You okay?” Glenn asks, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry. Just got a little distracted,” I reply.
“Well this is it,” he says, not paying attention to my answer.
We pull into a small town with different shops lining the street. Towards the end of the block is a large grocery store and I assume that’s our main destination. Before we exit the truck, we go over an escape plan multiple times. Glenn has thought of almost every possible way for this trip to go wrong and has an escape route for nearly every possibility.
We finally get out and I’m ready. I’m ready for some adrenaline to pump through my veins. Anything to take my mind off of my reality. Before we start walking we listen. I immediately hear a walker and turn. It’s coming at us from a few hundred yards away. It’s an older woman, the right side of her face almost completely gone. Glenn kills her. Easily. One stab to the center of the skull and she falls.
We decide to check out the pharmacy before we go to the main store. We don’t find much. A few bottles of aspirin. A hot water bottle. Some gauze. And three bottles of cough medicine. I’m on edge as we continue to raid the pharmacy. Just the slightest noise startles me. My heart hammers in my chest knowing that a walker could appear at any second. I feel alive, like I always do when I’m risking my life.
Glenn and I take the pharmacy findings back to the truck and head to the grocery store. When we reach the front doors, we hear them. There’s at least twenty of them locked inside. They smell us and quickly make their way to the doors, groaning as they pile themselves against the glass doors and windows. I turn around, already knowing that there's too many of them and expecting Glenn to follow me.
He doesn’t.
“We need to fight them off,” he says.
“Are you high? There’s at least twenty of them in there, we are not going in there.” He’s insane. I’m all for the feeling of adrenaline and risking my life when it’s necessary, but not when it’s unnecessary.
“There could be baby food in there, Macy. For Sam. There could be cans of food for Maggie. For all of us. We need to get in there.”
Obviously, he’s the heroic type. I understand that everyone back at the farmhouse needs food. But we can’t risk our lives for it. At least not until we’re so low on supplies that it becomes necessary.
“We’re going to die and then bring nothing back to anyone, Glenn,” I explain, desperately hoping he sees my side.
“We have to at least try.”
After five more minutes of arguing with him, I realize he’s not backing down and that he’ll end up trying to fight all of them off without me. I tell him it’s best if we spilt up. One of us finds the back entrance and the other takes the front, that way the walkers will be forced to spilt up too.
“We’re not splitting up. That’s how people die,” he says.
He devises a plan that uses the dumpster just a couple hundred feet from us. We push it so it’s almost in the front of the doors the walkers are behind. He tells me once he breaks the lock on the doors and once one walker comes out, to push the dumpster in front of the doors so more can’t escape. This way he can kill them one by one.
I don’t like the plan. There’s too many loopholes. They’re all piled up right now, there’s no way I’ll be able to push the dumpster fast enough to have only one escape.
“Trust me, it’ll be fine,” Glenn assures me. “I got this.”
He breaks the lock and we set the plan in motion.
On the first try, I manage to push the dumpster fast enough so only one escapes. Glenn kills him effortlessly. Just one stab to the head. The second time around, three of them escape and Glenn still manages kill them without my help. It’s the fifth time when my arms are tired that I don’t move the dumpster quick enough to block the doors, and they all escape.
They just keep pouring out. There’s at least fifteen of them. My hands shake as I reach for my gun and start shooting. They’re close enough to me that I don’t miss very often, but my hands are shaking so much that I have difficultly getting the perfect headshot to kill them. One of them gets so close to me that I don’t bother trying to shoot it, I quickly drive my knife into its head.
It only takes a few minutes for the madness to end and we’ve killed them all. I try to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, as Glenn rushes towards to me to make sure I’m all right.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I tell him.
“Have you ever had to kill that many?” he asks.
“No. When I was with Jayson and Sarah we were so far in the country that we would only run in to two or three walkers at one time,” I explain.
He nods. “Well, you did good. We need to run in there and gather as many supplies as we can. The gun shots might have drawn some walkers in our direction so we need to be quick,” he says.
And we are. I talk him into letting us spilt up while we search the store. I toss the remaining ten bottles of some toddler crap I find in aisle seven into my backpack, along with every jar of food I can find. The smell inside the store is revolting. I can’t imagine how many things have expired within the past year and the smell has me close to vomiting.
We sprint back to the truck. My backpack is so heavy that I’m gasping for air by the time I make it back. I climb into the truck and we set the supplies down by our feet before we start heading back to the farmhouse. We take the same path we did to get here. The time it takes to get back home feels shorter, like it always does. We spend most of the drive in silence, too tired to make conversation. It’s when we’re twenty miles from home that Glenn finally speaks up.
“I think you should give that baby food to Daryl when we get back.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he’ll switch you to his ‘I hate you’ list rather than his ‘I fucking hate you’ list,” he grins.
I laugh. “You really think giving him baby food will give me enough points to switch lists?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Probably not,” he smirks.
It takes a lot of effort, but Glenn finally talks to me into hand delivering the toddler crap to Daryl. I know I’m supposed to stay the hell out of his sight, although I do think this act of kindness will hopefully earn me a few points with him.
We don’t get back until nightfall so I wait until the next morning to approach Daryl. He’s out by one of the wells, filling bottles of water, with his crossbow slung across his shoulders, when I decide this is my best shot.
“Uh, Daryl,” I start. “I have something for you. Actually, it’s for your son and I thought it might help.” I hand him the few bottles of toddler snacks.
He refuses to look at me.
“I’m just trying to be nice okay?” I wait for him to say anything. “I’ll set them on the ground for you, in case you decide to take them,” I say, learning the bottles against the side of the well.
I stare at him for a few more moments, thinking he’ll come around and finally look at me.
He doesn’t.
He continues drawing water and ignoring me. The sun is hot against my back and I grow tired of waiting for him to give in. I guess this means I’m still on his ‘I fucking hate you’ list. I smile when I think of Glenn. Finally, I give up and start making my way back inside.
“Hey,” he calls.
I turn around.
“Please,” he begs. “Just don’t bother trying with me. Stay away from me.” Even when he talks to me he doesn’t look at me. His face is sad. Almost as sad as when he realized I wasn’t his dead wife.
“Okay,” I agree.
And we leave it at that. I don’t bother trying. I leave him alone.