A Week

It was the fourth house we had stayed in that week. We couldn't afford to move again, not for a couple of days. Hershel was worried about Beth. We were all worried about Beth, her cough, what had seemed an ill timed but common cold had gone to her chest, she was hacking, her thin body heaving. Running was no longer an option. It was a struggle for Lori as well, her bump protruding what seemed like metres in front of her frail frame.

The winter had been hard, six months of running, give or take. Every place that seemed good, seemed like that we could settle was a disaster. We'd spent three weeks at this fancy house further out in the countryside but in the end we attracted too much attention from the dead.

Then there was the issue of the living. We didn't speak about that as much, only between those who had been there. Unfortunately I had ended up in that small number, and I had ended up coated in blood putting pressure on the graze of a bullet on Daryl's arm. We swore it was from him catching himself in an abandoned store, if anyone in the wider group disbelieved it they didn't say anything.

We hadn't seen anyone alive in weeks.

“The place is clean.” Rick says lowly, exhaustion present in his features. We head in, a tired herd led by a weary shepard. We're on the outskirts of what can only be classed as a village, several miles from where we had been this morning. We were running in circles, clinging on to a hope that the farm would again be livable, that we could go back there. A long trip by Rick and Glenn had made us abandon that last week.

Unless we went for it, drove out of state, drove hours away we would keep being hounded by a mass of the dead who seemed to know our scent.

We were hoping this place would hold for a week, that was reasonable T-dog had said, believable. In an attempt for privacy, or maybe just to get back at the distant neighbours the owners of the house had built five foot walls around the property. Step one of our defence, the next step would be a two man watch, constantly held.

“How many bedrooms are there?” Lori asked, leaning heavily on the wall behind her, hip jutting.

“Three.” Daryl answers, “Ya'll decide between yourselves. I'm good down here. I'll take first watch.”

“I'll join you.” T-dog offers, “I'll check round outside again.” The two head out whilst the rest of us, or what's left of us start looking around the household more carefully. Hershel escorts his youngest daughter upstairs, and Lori demands that Carl follow and find a bed, it's late evening already and everyone is in our usual state.

There's not many of us left now, which seems glaringly obvious whenever we settle down at night. Daryl may be being noble saying he'll sleep downstairs but it's not just that. It's safety, usually we all sleep in the same room but with Beth so poorly she needs the bed, there's no reason Carl and Lori shouldn't have one too.

“You fancy snuggling?” Maggie asks me, one brow lifted. Our relationship has come a long way, and against myself, I like the hot headed farm girl who'd all but stolen Glenn from me. He'd laugh if I said that out-loud, although there would be a hint of embarrassment and he'd flush. But they made a good team, I got it. Not that in a million years they would have ended up together had it not been for these circumstances. At least the world going to shit has some hints of a silver lining.

“I'm not playing third wheel to you two.” She pouts but smiles wide, teeth white and straight.

Sometimes I thank God we met the Greene's.

“There is a spare bed though.” Rick tells us, fiddling with his pistol, “If Beth is in the single, Carl and Lori in the other that leaves the main bedroom.”

It's a tempting offer, but not one I'll take up. “I'm good on the couch.” I assure him, patting his shoulder as I move past and into the kitchen. “Treat yourself Rick, sleep on a mattress.”

“Nah,” He follows me, searching more thoroughly through another cabinet, “Wouldn't feel right, too...” I knew what he meant, even if it was hard to vocalise. Being in bed almost suggest you feel safe, like it's normal. There was no normal. I was even worried I would find a bed too comfortable and fall into such a deep sleep it could be disastrous should anything happen.

“I get you.” I assure him, “I ain't sharing anywhere with Daryl though.” Rick shoots me a questioning look, “He fuckin' stinks. Come on, don't stick up for him, next time we find a decent stream I am pushing him in.”

He chuckles, and I enjoy the moment. I can't remember the last time Rick actually laughed. He takes everything on his shoulders, and his relationship with Lori was painful to be around. I couldn't imagine being in it, with a wife carrying someone else's baby. Even more, your wife carrying the baby of the man who had gone crazy and tried to murder you. Your wife who blamed you, even though she set those cogs in motion.

I didn't envy Rick, not at all. “If we're being honest though, you don't look too hot yourself.” He leans back, tongue running over his lower lip waiting for my revolt. I laugh, make a big deal out of pretending I'm shocked at his comment and flip him off.

“You know, if that wasn't so completely true I'd slap you.”

“You'd slap me?”

“Southern ladies don't punch officer Grimes.” He smiles at my impression, “But I would slap that grin off your face.” It only widens.

“Well, count me as terrified.”

“I do.” I nod at him, eyes wide to prove the point. He laughs again, going to say more when there's a cough and the door creaks. “I've got Carl settled, you comin' up to say goodnight?” Lori, glaring daggers at me. I let it roll off my back, Lori hates everyone at some point or another. It hadn't been me for a few weeks so I suppose it was only fair. Maybe she was just annoyed she couldn't make her own husband laugh. She lingers for a moment as Rick heads out, I don't move, half expecting some snide comment. I don't get one, just a sigh as if I'm not worth her time and she too vanishes, albeit it a lot less gracefully.

I find some cereal, still closed in the packaging and open it, pouring some into my mouth. It's not too chewy, and it's coated in sugar which is practically a delicacy lately. The back door, leading from the kitchen to the garden bangs and I jump violently, able to hear T-dogs laugh before I catch my exclaimed breath. I turn around, he's grinning at me through the window and I pull a gruesome face before treading and turning the key still in the door. Dumb place to keep it for safety, but easier for us. “Scared ya?”

“Yeah, you're hilarious Tee.” I groan, swiping at him as he darts around me and grabs this cereal, “This stuff alright then?”

“Yeah, but...” It's too late, he's already jammed his hand in deep and pulled out a fistful. He crams it straight into his mouth, “I was gunna say don't put your dirty hand in it.”

“We're all dirty.” He argues, mouth full and his words muffled.

I shake my head at him, “You're a pig.”

“Don't hurt my feelings.” He whines, but puts the box down, “Anything else?”

“Must be somethin'.” We don't find much, but it's a better haul than normal. By the time we've dumped it all on the dining room table Daryl is back, a rabbit with one of his crossbow bolts through it's eye. He smirks at the face I pull. “Where you planning on cooking it?” Carol complains, “I'll burn up one-a these chairs.” Daryl answers simply. No-one contradicts him.

“We need to make sure we leave enough for Beth and Carl.” Again no-one disagrees with that. “An' then a couple of us will go into town in the morning., have a look through some more houses.”

“I'm going huntin'.” Daryl responds, “Need protein if we're getting ill.”

“Well, thankfully no-one else is ill yet.” Carol murmurs, although I take note that she's edged slightly further away. I meet Maggie's eye, she's clearly just the same thought and we share a conspirators grin. Lori shuffles, she got one of the chairs, but she's constantly uncomfortable.

My stomach is rumbling, loud enough I know that Glenn can hear it no problem. He prods me in the side. There's a thump from above us, and Rick vanishes to check on his son. We start eating without him, and on such an empty stomach even cold chilli isn't too bad. When he comes back in he looks odd and I can't read the expression on his face. “Carl found some christmas presents for last year that had been hidden away.” We're in March now, fourteen months since the world ended. This Christmas had been the last thing on our minds.

“Anything good?” I ask carefully, watching the tension around his eyes.

“Made him put them back, they're not his.”

“Nothin' we have is ours.” Hershel's voice is low, “That doesn't mean the boy shouldn't have a little joy in what we find.” I agreed with him whole heartedly.

“You give Carl an inch and he'll run a mile,” Lori warns, “He'll want an all out Christmas.”

“Why not?” Maggie interjects, “Bethy would like that.”

“And what would we give each other, beans?”

“What about a thankgiving dinner then?” I cut over, unwilling to let the idea go. “No presents then, we just gather all the food we can and enjoy it for a change rather than rationing it...”

“And what if something happens and we need it?”

I gesture around us, “Can it get worse?” A grim but accepting smile works its' way around the room. Maggie wins Hershel over with an anecdote about their last thanksgiving. Once he's on board everyone is easily swayed. “Just don't be pissed when I can't find a turkey.” Daryl laments.

We get what we refer to as the graveyard shift, when T-Dog and Daryl are dead on their feet we're shaken awake. I have to resist the urge to bring the knife from under the jumper mimicking a pillow.

“Jesus,” Daryl complains, and I apologise, giving him a hand to wrench me up. “Wake me up if you need us.” He offers and I nod, watching as Glenn wakes up in a far more lethargic manner, eyes glazed. “Thanks Daryl.” He waves me away, taking my spot on the floor.

“You alive?”

“Just about, I think I've slept funny.” Glenn shuffles and there's a loud crack from his side.

“Eww.” I whisper, T-dog opening one eye from the now free spot next to Maggie. “Sorry!” I leave the house, feeling my own joints groan as I go. The air is fresh, cold even. It's odd to be cold in the South, but in a way I relish it, it wakes me instantly, makes us more alert. “You planning on talking any walkers to death?” I don't turn when he comes beside me, but thank him, a little embarrassed when he has to hand me a pistol. He shows me the knife in his hand, the gun is always a last resort.

“Check round the outside?” He offers, shrugging deeper into his jacket. I nod, and let him lead. “We need to start getting better shifts.” He yawns, and I grin at me, nudging into him.

“Would you rather spend your time with Lori?”

“Don't be mean.” He doesn't mean it, and now our eyes are adjusted fully to the darkness it's quite clear there's no threat here. “This is a good spot.”

“For now.” His pessimism is founded and I nod, kicking a stone out of the way. “We need to go somewhere better, like the farm.”

“We need to go further away.” He's well aware of my opinion on this, I understand the difficulty of travel for Lori, I understand why people want to stay somewhere somewhat familiar. “We should try east, north, west, it...it doesn't matter where but we're just running in circles. We need a proper place, there must be proper little settlements, bigger than the farm.”

“You actually believe that, or you just hoping?” We'd both seen Atlanta. We'd experienced enough of that. “I don't know.” I admit, both of us pausing at a slight noise from far enough. I nod at him when I'm sure it's nothing and we continue our lap of the building, “We can't keep doing this though, not when Lori gives birth, come on.”

“No, we can't.” He shrugs his shoulders again, clearly starting to get cold, “You and Rick have had this argument though and...”

“And I need people backing me up.”

“Rick's in charge.” He says simply, as if that solves all of my problems.

“You missed the end of his famous speech.” I snap back, “This isn't a democracy any more.” I kick at the wall just in case Glenn doesn't realise just how ridiculous I find it. He smiles at little at me instead.

“It's not a joke Glenn, she's like two months away from giving birth. Where is she going to give birth, more important than that, how the hell are we gunna stay hidden anywhere like this with a little baby wailing all the time?”

“We made it this far.” I roll my eyes at him, he just smiles again and hops up onto the wall. I copy him, although it's more of a struggle for me. “Need a hand short ass?”

“Screw you.” I manage it on my third attempt. I can't pretend not to be annoyed at him about this. I am, very much so. The idea of just running away from a herd of walkers and moving day to day is exhausting, it's down right stupidity. “You're mad huh?”

“Yes!” I squeak, “I am mad. We need to find somewhere like the farm. I don't know how many times I can say this. And the fact you're too damn...”

“I'm not too anything,” he half snaps. “We're alive, the farm didn't work. This is working...” He lets me cut him off and repeats my words, “for now.”

“Until Rick decides differently and clicks his fingers.”

“I can't even keep up with you.” He yawns heavily once again into his palm, “I thought you like Rick.”

“I do, doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does.”

“This isn't a democracy.” He says in a low, gravelly voice that sounds nothing like Rick. I shouldn't, it's not even funny, it's far from it, but I laugh and he joins in. “A dictatorship.” I see the lightbulb blink above his head, “A rick-tatorship.”

I splutter, the previous chuckle catching in my throat. “Oh my god Glenn!” It's too late, he's gone and I'm following, smothering my hand over my mouth and choking on laughter. He repeats the word several times. Each sends us in peals of giggles. It takes what feels like forever until we can control ourselves, and we sit, purposefully not looking at each other for a while to avoid getting back to the moment.

“I'm blaming that on how tired we are.” I say simply, “'cause we shouldn't be laughing at that.”

“I know.” His mouth starts trembling again and I bite my lower lip hard. “Sorry, I won't....it's not funny.” It still is, but when I let my mind wander back the mood becomes far more sombre. I hate thinking about Shane, it makes me feel like I'm suffocating, so bad I can practically feel his hands around my neck again. Glenn can tell, he leans over and catch my finger, linking them in-between his and swinging them back and forth. “We should probably do another check round.”

“Yeah,” I squeeze his hand in thanks and jump down, “We're like the worst people on watch ever.”

“I won't tell if you don't.”

It's hard to get to sleep at night, and usually even harder once you've been awake during the dead of it. We head in when the sun starts to rise, Rick and Hershel take our places, Hershel insisting that the bed he and Carol had somehow shared was now free. “I'll tops and tail you.” I suggest, and Glenn looks at Maggie who waves him off, pulling a face. “Course that's fine. Go to sleep.”

“If you're tired you can take it.” I offer, although my own, poorly hidden yawn betrays me.

“Take the bed, I'm going to go check on Beth anyhow. Gotta tell her thanksgiving is coming too!” She beams at me, rushing up the stairs way more enthusiastically than either of us. I can hear her excited chatter to Beth along the hallway; Beth's coughed responses. We're about to settle in, debate flying back and forth. Neither of us were keep to have our feet in each others face, although I was adamant that for the first time in several weeks I would fall asleep without my boots on. “Just don't want them in my face.”

“Whatever pizza boy, I'm going to sleep for a couple of hours, you lay how you want.”

“Don't call me pizza boy.” He gives up and flops beside me, leaving an oddly respectable amount of space between the two of us. I knew that for Maggie's benefit rather than either of ours. It wasn't like we hadn't spend several nights squashed up against each other beforehand. Then there was the night in the CDC, but we did not talk about that.

I expect sleep to be difficult, but a mattress and fluffy pillow is a luxury, even if they smell of mildew and next thing I know I can hear my name, breaking through my distorted dream until it's too close. I make some sort of noise, and roll, only managing to wrap myself further up in Glenn. I groan, slipping away and rubbing my hands over my eyes as the voice laughs. “You look cosy.”

“What time is it?” I complain, disorientated and feeling like I'm sinking into the springs. “Sorry, couldn't afford to give you more than a couple of hours, Daryl's gone out hunting and we need supplies if we're doing thanksgiving.”

I nod, bleary still and stretch, not realising how close Rick is when I stand and apologising as I brush against him. “Is Glenn even alive?” I lean down, my yawn aching my jaw and chuck my pillow onto his mushed up face. He mumbles but just turns over. “Maggie can wake him up.” I suggest.

“Not if we want him downstairs in five minutes.”

I stretch again, pulling my boots back over aching feet. “You wake him up them. Do we have water left?”

“Some, we'll need more. There's a stream, although it doesn't look like much more than that about a mile out of town.”

“I claim that job.” A stream meant the chance not only for fresh water, but to somewhat clean myself up. I was getting sick of layers of deodorant, baby wipes and dry shampoo to feel somewhat human. “You an' Glenn are both better used in a town.”

“Well I'd much rather sort the water. But I guess it's up to you.” My voice is sweet, but it's not hard to miss the touch of scorn. I tread out, and stick my head in Beth's room, fingers clawing through my hair. There's a mirror in there, and she's asleep so I don't wake her.

I frown at my reflection, it's difficult not too, and try to put my hair in some sort of order, wiping under my eyes. Even with the weather cooling, my freckles were still on full display thanks to long hours out in the sun, just not in the way I had been used too. My hair is desperate for a cut, getting to an unbearable length where a good half inch seem to be split ends. Small problems, especially when we don't have a place to call home.

Even smaller when you consider most of the world is either eaten or eating people.

The thought is dark and I push it far back with the other nasty ones and head downstairs. “Beth still sleeping?” I tell Hershel quickly she is.

“Who's heading out then?”

“Daryl's just left.” T-dog tells me, “Then it's me, you, Maggie, Glenn an' Rick.” That left Hershel and Carol responsible for the protection of Lori, Carl and Beth. They were capable, not quick but capable. “We leaving one of the cars?”

“Think so.” He's fiddling with a pistol, I head into the other room, take a long sip of water and swirl it around my mouth before swallowing. A handful of mints follow. If we managed this whole thanksgiving idea, I am most definitely thankful for peppermints. The nasty taste in my mouth vanishes as I crunch them up. A minute or two later Rick and Glenn come down, Glenn looking as bad as I feel.

We split up weapons, and wait for Rick's instructions. I'm a hypocrite, I know that. I'd argue against Rick every step of the way and still do as he asked. Glenn did have a point, at times it was far easier.

“Okay, Daryl'll be back at sunset. Carol, Hershel,” they stand to attention, “Anything goes sour save your bullets but loop around in the jeep, half an hour of the way, if it's safe come back. Head East, but if coming back isn't an option stay put and we'll find you later on.” They nod, and Carol sits stiffly back down next to Lori. Hershel tells us to keep an eye out for any medication, any at all, and he'll see what's suitable for Beth and what could be kept for future.

“Alright, we need water too.” I try to look as disinterested as possible. “Lily, we'll handle that. It's about a mile further North, out of town by the store. I'm hoping we can find a car and some more containers before we head off.” Everyone else is set to the one street of stores, touching into houses if they have time.

Carol is also charged with starting a controlled fire with Lori, so we can try and boil any water and heat up any food. Glenn raises at brow at Rick's choice of companion for the water but doesn't say anything.

For a change everything goes smoothly. Rick and I find several large water bottles, clearly brought in the panic before everything had really gone to shit. The stream is clear and we fill them easily. I even find time to head a bit further down, Rick very purposefully avoiding looking in my direction and clean my body and hair as much as possible in the freezing water.

We even have time to head back and drop them off, help stoke the fire and I stay with Carol heating water in several saucepans and an ancient metal kettle.“It's a nice idea, the meal. I know I wasn't that on-board with it yesterday.” I smile at her, we don't speak much, Carol and I. Not that she's the same Carol she was those long months ago. “But, it's nice. Not expecting Daryl to snag a turkey but it'll do.”

“What could be better than lukewarm canned soup? You tell me that.”

“About every damn thing there is left.” I laugh with her, that's a nice change. “What will you be saying you're thankful for then,” she asks, moving one burning saucepan out of the way and transferring the water back into a bottle. “Other than my wonderful company.”

I laugh again, and shrug at her, “I didn't think that far ahead.”

“You should.”