Chapter 12

Val awoke before the sun's rays could peek in through the window. He wiped his eyes and yawned, then sat up on his bed.

The sky outside the window slowly lightened as he sat and thought about looking out.

Finally, Val rose and walked over to the window. Outside, no one could be seen. Val looked over at Mirit's empty bed. He wondered where she had gone.

She must have left early because the sun was barely rising.

Val sighed and went to the bathroom. Then, he laid on his bed and waited. Just as his eyes drifted closed, the door opened, and he came fully awake again.

"Where were you!"

"Oh . . . you're awake?"

"Yeah. . . . Where did you go?"

"I went to talk to Daryl. You know, I'm going to go on a run with them."

"Why?"

"We need supplies. Same as when we used to live at the apartment."

"There are a lot of people . . ."

"And we all have to do our part."

"Mirit, is life ever going to be normal again?"

"You mean like it was before . . . No."

"But what if the monsters go away?"

"That's not gunna happen."

"Why?"

"As long as people live, they will die. So, the monsters will always be there."

"They are really dead people?"

"Yes. The dead. You've seen them. You know. So why are you asking?"

"I'm scared. I had a dream about Uncle George and Jake."

"What happened?"

"They were alive. Then, they were dead again, but like the other dead ones. You said they aren't like that. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. They are really dead. They won't ever become monsters."

"How do you know?"

"There's a way to stop it . . . ."

The thought hit Mirit before Val verbalized it.

"Then, there is a way to stop the monsters from existing. Maybe it could go back . . ."

"Val, you're a little too young to understand. You're right. Maybe it could go back if we could stop everyone who died from turning, but it isn't possible."

Val felt annoyed by the comment about his being too young to understand. He felt like he could understand if she would give him the chance.

"Why?"

Mirit sighed.

"It just isn't."

"But Jake and Uncle George . . ."

"Are not monsters, and never will be."

Val nodded and sighed. He had not seen Uncle George or Jake die. He had not seen their mother die. Val had been told about their deaths by Mirit, and she would not tell him how they died or why she was so sure that they would not turn into monsters. Val was glad he had not dreamt of his mother. Secretly, he held hope in his heart that Mirit had been mistaken about the deaths of their family. He liked to imagine that one day they would come back alive.

"Val, I know it's hard for you to understand what's been happening. Hell, I'm an adult, and it confuses me sometimes. The world is crazy now, and it's hard to keep adapting."

"Adapting?"

"Changing to fit in. Adjusting to the changes."

"Oh."

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah."

"But in this world, things are so crazy. We can't predict what will happen each day. All we can do is try our best to keep surviving."

Val started to feel uneasy.

Mirit had awoken that morning thinking about what Daryl had said. When she had gone on runs as part of the group from the apartment, she had never taken into account how dangerous it could be. Her uncle had tried to explain it to her, but he had also kept her pretty sheltered.

"Mirit, promise you'll come back," Val said suddenly.

"Val . . . I don't know . . ."

"Then, you can't go!"

Val grabbed onto Mirit and held her with a force she did not expect. He buried his face in her sweatshirt, his body shaking.

Mirit could tell that Val had started to cry by the trembling in his voice.

"Val . . ."

"I won't let you go!"

"It's okay. I promise. I will come back, Val. I'll do whatever I have to, but I will come back."

Mirit said the words with a conviction she did not actually feel, but she had to force herself to mean them. There were many unknowns yet to face, and the dead were the least of the potential dangers they could come across. Negan would surely have discovered their absence, and he would come after them. Maybe any sense of safety they felt was just a temporary illusion, like a magic trick. Any minute, they could be back at the Sanctuary or dead.

Mirit shook her head to clear it. She tried to pry Val's arms loose, but they held her waist like a vice grip. Mirit bent down on her knees and hugged her brother.

"If we are going to stay alive and live in a nice place like this, I have to go. Do you understand? We have to fight Negan. We have to work together, and we don't have a lot of time, Val."

Val looked into Mirit's eyes. Tears made his sister's image blur before him.

"Can't we just run away?"

Mirit was startled to hear the suggestion that Carl had given not too long before.

"No."

"Why?" Val asked in a voice overflowing with desperation.

"Because we would never be able to stop running. If we did, we'd have to face the same fight. Except, maybe then, we wouldn't have anyone else to fight with us on our side. Now, we can all stand together. It's our best chance."

Val heard the truth in what Mirit said.

"Can I go with you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You're not ready. You need to learn how to defend yourself."

Val was relieved that Mirit didn't say he was too young.

"Will you teach me when you come back?"

"Yes."

Val let go of Mirit and stepped back.

Mirit kissed his cheek and stood.

Val wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

Mirit smiled.

"Jesus will be by later to check on you. Don't forget to take your medicine."

"Okay."

Mirit cut a clear vinyl shower curtain into strips and sewed the strips to the outside a canvas jacket, focusing on layering the vinyl around the sleeves.

Once she finished, she put on the jacket. It should afford her some protection from the walkers. Both canvas and vinyl would be hard to bite through, and the vinyl would make Mirit hard to grip. To maximize this effect, Mirit poured a little baby oil onto the vinyl and spread it with her hands.

"There you are," Jesus said as he walked into the room. "Val said that you came to the house to look for something."

"Yes, and I found what I needed. Except a hat. I still need a hat."

Jesus looked at the jacket Mirit was wearing.

"Did you make that?"

"Yes."

"I found some baby oil. Maybe Maggie will be able to use it," Mirit said, holding up the bottle.

"Yeah. . . . Would it be okay if I talked to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Outside?" Jesus said, and motioned for Mirit to follow him.

Mirit rose to go with him.

"You can leave the baby oil there. I can get it to Maggie later."

Mirit put the baby oil on a side table on the way out of the office and followed Jesus outside of the house. They walked toward the back of the house.

"So, what's going on?" Mirit asked.

"I noticed that you made yourself a kind of armor."

"Yeah. We used to try to modify our clothes to be more protective where I'm from. Not everyone can be a ninja master," Mirit said and smiled.

"Or a Samurai," Jesus replied, smiling back.

Mirit laughed.

"Are you a Samurai?"

"No. I was kidding."

"I know. I was, too."

"How well can you defend yourself?"

"You're worried I can't fight."

"A little."

"I know how to fight walkers. They are easy. They always reach with their hands and bite with their teeth. Everything they do is to try to eat you. That's why I try to make myself slippery and wear thick clothes," Mirit said, motioning to the adjustments she'd made to the jacket. "I need a hat, too. Even though you are good at fighting with long, loose hair, if they get too close and grab mine, it would be very dangerous."

Jesus nodded.

"I'm a walker. Defend yourself."

He lunged at Mirit like a dead one, all upper body and face.

Mirit dodged. She pulled her knife from the makeshift sheath she had tied at her waist.

Jesus kept coming at her, pretending to be a walker.

She stepped to the side, avoiding another lung and tapped Jesus's temple gently with the hilt of her knife.

Jesus straightened.

"I could also go through the eye. Whatever angle happens to be best."

"Good. Now, how do you handle a living opponent?"

Mirit put the knife back into the holster of rags she had made and looked into Jesus's eyes.

"You want to spar with me?" she asked, hesitantly.

Jesus nodded.

"I'll go slow. Just show me what you'd do."

He reached for her, and Mirit dodged. Jesus grabbed Mirit's wrist with his other hand.

Instinctively, Mirit turned her body in the direction of the captured arm. She mirrored Jesus's position and broke the grip. Then, she grabbed his arm and pulled it toward her, stepping forward to push Jesus into a roll.

Jesus came up from the roll and faced Mirit. He nodded. Again, he charged toward her and grabbed her wrist.

Mirit kicked Jesus and pulled back his thumb at the same time. She did not put force behind either of the two movements.

"Not too bad."

"A living person can feel pain, so that helps a little. But a living person can also fight back and think, and that makes it harder."

"Right," Jesus said.

Then, he began to spar with Mirit. Jesus leveled a series of blows at her, some punches and kicks in succession. Mirit dodged and blocked the blows as best she could, but she struggled to keep up with Jesus and found herself staggering when he landed a blow to her side. Jesus caught her as she slipped back.

"You're so fast!"

"It takes practice."

Mirit looked dejected.

"There's no time to practice," she said.

"Not now, but when you get back I can help you train," Jesus offered.

It was a vote of confidence from Jesus. He believed that Mirit would make it back, and that she could improve her fighting skills.

"Thanks," Mirit said, and shook Jesus's hand.

"I think I know someone with an extra cap. You want it?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem."

The sun shone brightly through the window, but Negan had become aware of something else before opening his eyes to the blinding sunshine. His radio was making static noises, and someone was calling for him to come in. Negan groaned and grabbed the radio.

"Yeah?"

Suddenly, there was silence on the other end.

"Yeah?" he repeated, annoyed.

"Sir, we found Fat Joey."

"Put the Sonofabitch on."

Again, there was an awkward pause.

Negan waited, annoyed.

"He's dead," came the response, finally.

It figured. Fat Joseph wasn't the type to go missing. Negan had been prepared for the news.

"Sir?"

"Yeah."

"He was killed."

"The dead?"

Negan was starting to get pissed off at the constant hesitation on the other end of the communication.

"Do we have a weak signal or something?"

"No, Sir."

"Then tell me what the fuck is going on. Why do you keep shutting up?"

The man on the other end of the line did not want to be the one to tell Negan the news, but he had been ordered to report their findings. He just hoped that Negan wouldn't shoot the messenger later. At least, Negan was very far away right now. Chuck swallowed and decided to bite the bullet.

"Yes, Sir. Daryl escaped. It looks like he may have killed Fat Joseph."

Negan shot out of bed screaming.

"WHAT!"

The litany of swear words and obscenities that spouted from Negan's mouth poured through the radio and drowned Chuck in a sea of anxiety. Chuck shook uncontrollably at the clear rage and disbelief in Negan's voice.

Finally, Negan regained control enough to say one more thing before signing off the radio.

"I'm on my way back," he said.

No matter what was happening outside on the road, Negan would not be delayed any further from getting back to the Sanctuary. He wanted to talk to Dwight.

Mirit, Rosita, and Daryl got into a car and were driving toward Mirit's old home. Rosita had insisted on driving, and Daryl had taken shotgun. Mirit sat alone in the back seat behind Daryl. She looked out the window and saw a handful of dead lumbering along by the forest of trees several hundred feet from the road.

No one spoke for the first half hour of the journey. Finally, Rosita broke the silence.

"Not fallin' asleep back there are ya?"

"No."

"We're gettin' close to the turn off ya marked on the map," Daryl said.

"Yes, it's about three miles up on the right," Mirit said, remembering.

Daryl turned to look back at Mirit and smiled.

"Don't start," Mirit said, a little embarrassed.

When Mirit had met the pair by the car to leave on the run, Daryl had covered his mouth and pretended to cough in order to hide his laughter.

Rosita had made a disgusted face and shook her head.

Mirit had been confused by their reaction until Daryl had whispered to her.

"What? Did you bring a costume from the Sanctuary? Who're you s'posed to be? Lil' MC?"

Mirit had blushed in embarrassment, realizing how she looked to him. She wore a canvas jacket with stripes of clear vinyl running down the length of the sleeves and also down the front and back of the jacket. She also wore a backwards cap. The visor had made it hard to see, and her hair tucked better into the cap this way.

Daryl bit his lip.

Mirit looked like she'd walked straight out of a 90's rap video.

"After this turn?" Rosita asked, slightly annoyed.

"We go straight until we hit the main road. Then take a left. About ten miles down that road is my old town."

"And the turnoff is half a mile before that?" Daryl asked.

"Yes. It'll be a right turn onto a dirt road. It used to be a walking trail."

"It's probably overgrown now," Daryl said. "Go slow when we get close. I should still be able to spot it."

Rosita nodded, but didn't say anything. She did not entirely trust Mirit, and seeing her dressed like a clown didn't do anything to boost Rosita's confidence in her. How much protection would the ridiculous outfit really provide? Again, Rosita shook her head.

Mirit looked at Rosita's eyes in the rear-view mirror and saw the disapproval there. Soon, Mirit would prove her worth to the woman. They just had to find the weapons and get them back to the Hilltop.