In the Sound

I heard the loud clack of a shutting car door.

The pads of boots across bitumen, scrambling over to me and Kit. Half sitting, I watched the rumbling car as its hum died down. The sound of the roaring engine softened. My heart was shuddering. I felt a little hazy.

“Nora, can you hear me? Nora, its Herschel.”

Rays of sunlight were beaming in my eyes. Even when I shut my lids, I could feel the warm tingle of the sun slipping inside.

Herschel was kneeled beside me, eyes rimmed with tiredness. The slightest whiff of alcohol lingering from his breath. He was slumping a little, his beard shaggy. Arms habitually going to my bloody hand, inspecting it in his own sweaty palms.

“Not dead,” I said softly, swatting him away. “Can’t stay long though, there’s a whole herd of ‘em nearby.”

“You bit?”

Another familiar drawl. Rick stood a little behind Herschel, hunched down so his eyes could meet level with mine. Both his hands were perched on the tops of his knees, eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

“Wanna search me Grimes?”

“Always with the sarcasm.” He let out a breathy laugh and rose to a tall stance. One hand resting over his holster, the other on his hip. Rick turned away, pretending to be looking out for the herd that I mentioned. “Ya headed out pretty quick, didn’t get a chance to see ya off.”

I nodded grimly, flinching when Herschel prodded against my cut. Did they come out here to find me?

“Told ya I wasn’t staying long. What are you guys doing out here?”

“Well I’m glad to see ya okay,” Grimes offered, a stressed smile lining at his thin lips.

There was an awkward hush, a swift flicker of eyes between Rick and Herschel. An exchange that I didn’t quite catch. They weren’t coming for me at all, probably didn’t even really seem bothered I was gone.

Rick rubbed at his growing stubble, making a scratching sound. “We were jus’ gettin’ some stuff. Headin’ back now. Can fit two more but it’d be at least a night’s trip.”

Kit nudged his wet nose against my thigh, his bushy tail curling around me. Herschel gently let go of my hand, placing it delicately over my lap. He faced it upright, the bloody cut staring straight into the sky. I hated the night.

“We’ll probably find a place to hole up in, back at town. Get some supplies, move out in the morning.”

Rick was already shaking his head, pacing back over casually. He stopped in front of me, one hand out to stress his concern.

Herschel stayed kneeling beside me, wiping the back of his neck with a handkerchief before stuffing it back in his pocket.

“It aint safe in town. We almost didn’t make it ourselves,” Rick paused slightly. His tone lowering, head nudging towards their red car. “We uh- picked up a kid on the way back.”

I followed his gaze into the backseat of the car. Sitting in the middle was a bound boy. His face gagged, ripped material twisted around his body. His head lulled over as he sat, like he was already dead. Beside him was Glenn, who was swapping his attention between us and the boy.

I gulped uncomfortably. “He looks cosy.”

Rick was eyeing him now, lids squinted in the slightest way. He wriggled his jaw, thinking hard about something. Something I knew was bothering him to the bone.

“He shot at us, jumped down from a roof and stuck his leg on a fence,” he shook his head in a slight shiver. Fingers pried up on his hips, his eyes driving back to mine with a nod. “Poor son of a bitch got left behind by his own group.”

Staring hard at the backseat of the car, I tried to imagine the kid with a pistol between his bound hands. How old was he anyway? It was one thing to be carrying around a gun or knowing how to shoot it. Hell, something felt a little wrong about Carl’s lust for it. But a kid actually trying to kill people. It was foul.

Grimes seemed to have read my mind. He stepped back a wandering space, his jaw breaking out in small nods. Turning on his heel, he guided himself into a lazy pace back to the car.

“Yeah. Think we’ll take him back to camp, see what the group wants to do with ‘im there.”

The car door swung open with a rusty squeak. Rick’s boots were scraping over the side as he hopped into the driver’s seat, making it squish and squeal under his weight. Glenn was glancing at him, a worried hint tickling at his brows. Herschel was still at my side, like a wavering band aid.

“You come on back with us, and Kit too. Understand?”

Facing Daryl again would be too mortifying.

“No Herschel,” I said sternly, lips in a tight line.

A slow breath coursed through his lips, his chest heaving out a big pocket of air. There was a hush. A hush that consumed the both of our tongues. After a moment, Herschel took my hand back into his. His bumpy ones smoothing over my wounded one, squishing the blood around my skin.

I heard the gulp at his throat.

“My wife is dead. My son, dead. Otis, dead. Everybody I knew, everyone in the barn, they’re all gone,” he looked at me hard now. “I don’t have much left. My girls, Patricia, and Jimmy. God has made me more fortunate than most. But all of us, we’re the last of this town’s memory now. Including you and including Kit. Don’t be fool enough to forget about that.”

I met his dark bulbs, shadowed by a wing of white eyelashes. Freckles and wrinkles were soaking his skin, and sprouting out of his chin was a dirty branch of white hair. His soft brows, and thin lips curling into an apologetic frown.

No matter how hard I tried, how hard I tried to be mad at him. I couldn’t be. Maybe he forgot Dad was in the barn. Maybe he never put him in there at all. Maybe he thought that telling me would destroy my heart. I’d never be sure. But he’d saved Kit’s life. And mine. And for that, I was forever indebted to him. Just like I promised I was.

“Okay,” came my dry whisper. “We’ll come back.”