Chapter 16

Michonne's body was tense yet ready for anything as she surveyed the empty streets and sidewalks. They tried to be quick but thorough as they made their way through the campus. True to his word, Tyreese made a good guide and got them where they needed to be without any undue attention or problems. They crept into the building Hershel had pointed them to and silently made their way down the debris-strewn hallways so clearly indicative of the destruction that had hit the school.

"Come on, let's make this quick," Daryl said as they turned off the main path. He was similarly on high alert, but also in his element in a way that comforted Michonne. He may have balked at being called a leader; didn't mean the description didn't fit.

The first room they came to didn't yield much. Michonne noticed Bob lingering and wondered if he'd found something as he stooped over a pile of random trash on the floor. A shuffle from in front of her grabbed her attention, but it was only Daryl checking behind an obstruction in the next room. When she turned back to Bob, he'd straightened himself and was heading back in their direction. Lingering for a beat to make sure he was close and to grab a few items from the desk, she then followed the other two men.

After the next two rooms only revealed an item or two from their list, they split off, Daryl and Tyreese to look for equipment and Michonne and Bob to get the meds they needed. They found the repository quickly enough and got to work. There were surprisingly a lot of supplies left—Hershel had been right about that. No one had thought to look here, either because they didn't realize the supplies it contained or it had been too overrun to try. After all, the herd that had overpowered them had to have come from somewhere.

Michonne scanned the cabinets, picking off a few bottles here and there while Bob did the same. They then moved on to the shelves loaded with vials and pill bottles, some of which contained the materials they needed.

"Anything ending with '–cilin' or '–cin'; that's 'C-I-N,' grab," Bob ordered. She nodded and refrained from rolling her eyes. That's the funny thing about the end of the world: there's no way of knowing what people knew before things changed, the extent of their learning, a lot of it useless now in Michonne's case. She didn't blame Bob for being cautious—probably his military training kicking in.

"We'll dissolve the pills in the IV put 'em right into the blood stream. The dosage will be tricky but considering the time we lost…" He shook his head and turned back to scanning the shelves.

She'd been steadily putting vials of medication into her bag sitting on the table to add to the packets of pain relievers and ointments. They both turned briefly as Tyreese and Daryl barreled into the room. "How'd you do?" Bob asked.

Tyreese planted his heavy looking cargo onto the table closest to him. "Bags, tubes, clamps, connectors, everything on the list."

Daryl checked his back before laying his crossbow at rest beside him and placing his own bag on the floor in case they needed a hand. "What about y'all?"

Seeing him look over at where she was putting the last of her finds in the bag, she shifted her gaze and nodded to Bob. "Yeah, we got it all," he reported.

Out of habit, Daryl looked at her to confirm, not because he didn't trust Bob, it was just how they were when on a run. "Yeah, we're good."

Bob added his items to the backpack on the table and Michonne secured it and strapped it to her shoulder. No one had discussed it, but Michonne figured she'd hold their most precious cargo for this run. If they got caught up, she was the most likely to be able to get out of a tough spot and get back to the prison. No one else was better at living out here in the chaos of the new world at this point, not even Daryl.

Satisfied, Daryl gathered their things again, "Alright, let's roll."

They all followed in a straight line, hearing the muffled echoes around them with no idea of where the threats waited. Daryl did his usual sweep from lead. The stirrings got louder and they all felt that it would only be a matter of time before their luck ran out.

Sure enough, Daryl shone his light on some wandering dead in one of the rooms, right before it turned in their direction. They scurried down the hall in quick escape, hearing the shuffling and moans of their enemies to their back.

"Up ahead," she pointed, sighting a better retreat than retracing their steps toward the walkers at their tail.

In the new section of the wing, Michonne was at the front of their group—Daryl was a better lead to take out an enemy from a distance when you had the time to assess. But when making a quick exit, the reach of her katana and reflexes made Michonne's skills the better tactical advantage. The sounds of a disturbance at their backs alerted her that their getaway wouldn't be so clean. She saw Bob leaning against the door.

"Hey, door's busted!"

"Oh, hold up," Daryl said to her, gripping her waist briefly and pushing her forward to go on while he investigated. He then stopped to help find some obstructions to slow down anything that might follow them. As the others tried to secure their retreat, Michonne swept her light across the dark room to find another way out. Catching a sign for the stairwell, she slowly headed towards it.

"There," she whispered to the group and Daryl motioned for the others to follow. As they crept forward, she started as she heard Tyreese behind them taking out a walker that had been hiding amongst the cages stored in the long hallway.

Dread filled her as she approached the stairwell door and saw the lock attached to the handles. Then multiple hands seeped through the crack in the doors, trying to get at them.

Daryl swore softly at her shoulder. "How many?"

"I can't tell."

Still feeling the adrenaline from his kill, Tyreese turned towards the hoard that had followed them from the previous set of rooms. ""We can take 'em."

"No! They're infected," Bob warned. "Same as at the prison." Her quick look at the figures loping towards them showed the eerie blood trails oozing from their eyes, nose, and mouth. It was more sickening than normal, especially knowing that their companions back in the prison would meet the same fate if they couldn't get out of here and back home in time.

Bob backed up towards where she stood at the stairwell exit. "We fire at 'em, get blood on us, breathe it in? We didn't come all this way to get sick." The panic had started to rise in the man and Michonne wondered if they would have to deal with another loose cannon trying to get out of here in addition to Tyreese.

"How do we know the ones in there aren't any different?" Tyreese asked pointing at the disembodied hands coming through the stairwell door.

"We don't." Michonne was done with this standoff, they needed to make a choice and execute, whatever the scenario. When your choices are bad and bad, it aint that hard to choose.

Apparently, Daryl agreed and made the call. "Well, it's gotta change sometime." Breaking off pieces of a chair to flip off the chains, he stands at the front to get ready for whatever waited on the other side. "Ready?"

Michonne grips her katana, sees Bob cock his gun and Tyreese raise his hammer while also holding Daryl's crossbow as he waits to make the first move. "Do it!" he yells.

And they do. Luckily, Daryl chose correctly and only a few walkers waited for them—Bob taking out one with his gun and she decapitating two more.

Daryl heads through, weapon back in hand. "Come on." They follow him out and Michonne coolly shifts back into the lead to take out any lingering threats in the area along the stairs. She's still cool—they haven't yet encountered anything she hadn't gotten out of before, either on her own or with Daryl. But she hopes they're at the end of their adventure because she's not sure how much more the men with her can take.

"Figures," she heard Daryl mutter from behind her as they crept along at a quick but careful pace. "Can't go a few damn hours out in the world without shit hittin' the fan."

Michonne checked the corner and peered into the doorway pane of a seemingly silent passageway. The air buzzed with their combined tension; they couldn't afford to have it reach critical levels before getting out of this latest mess.

She glanced over to Daryl, now at her side as they both scanned the area through the door. His brow was furrowed and his eyes tight. He gripped the handle preparing to open the door and greet whatever waited for them on the other side, still grumbling under his breath. But before he went through, she stroked him gently on the arm. "Can't take you anywhere," she said.

He blinked at her flippant response. Then he smirked at her before jerking the door open and waving her through in a gentlemanly flourish. Despite their dire situation, Michonne grinned at him.

Another hallway and even more walkers drawn by the noise. At least now they knew the lay of the land and correctly predicted the location of the stairwell at the end of the hallway. With classrooms on each side, all filled with the undead remnants of the survivors that had held up here, their walker threat had increased to an unmanageable level. They needed to get out of this building.

Taking out another body that popped out in front of her, she ran for the stairwell door, only to find it locked—and not with loose chains but wedged and bolted shut. There was no getting past this one without time and force, both of which they had little of at the moment.

"Get back," Daryl shouted, kicking at the door when she moves away. He doesn't waste time trying again, coming to the same realization she does.

The other two men make their way towards them, wondering why they'd stalled. "We don't have an exit," she reports.

"Then we make one," Daryl responds, going into what she calls "warrior mode." They'd been in tight spots before on the road and when the shit falls, Daryl is relentless. The man would never go down without fighting to his last bit of strength. She didn't want it to come to that now when they had so much on the line.

She sees that Tyreese has a fire extinguisher and already has his arm raised to throw it at the wide window, the equivalent of a missile in those massive arms of his that once only had to worry about throwing a football across a field for the perfect pass. Daryl crouched in the corner and she briefly glared at him for taking a position that could shower him with glass all over his bare arms. She said nothing though and stepped back towards Bob who'd been steadily taking up the rear to block their path as much as possible.

The glass shattered and as she felt the wind gusting through the new hole, they were a go once again.

"They're here!" Bob yelled from next to her.

Michonne watched as Daryl and then Tyreese disappeared through the window, jumping out onto what must be a ledge or walkway running the perimeter of the school. She pushed Bob in front of her to climb up and out—she had the farthest reach and he had taken out enough of the walkers to give them both time to exit. Bob didn't hesitate and she stabbed the heads of the two closest walkers before sheathing her weapon and turning to follow. In the melee, she only faintly registered a bit of a scuffle coming from beyond the window in front of her. Bob was scurrying for his bag and once he moved out of the way, she steadied herself and jumped, only seeing that the space was clear for her.

Except she didn't land solidly against the ledge. She felt her feet sliding against slick leaves right before she went down and kept going over the edge.

She didn't waste time panicking, she just clicked into survival mode and scrambled to hold onto anything that would keep her from dropping into the den of walkers waiting below. Spotting Bob as the closest person, she reached out for him only to see him clutch something at his side and watch in horror as she slid farther over the edge and outside of his reach. The first brush of decayed walker hands clawed at her boots and she made a last effort to grip the edge of the ledge. She would not go down like this—and even if she somehow didn't pull herself up, she was going to go out swinging her katana before letting a group of walkers overpower her. Feeling her fingers slip, she prepared herself for the impact and the fall and the battle beyond.

Instead, a set of hands appeared at her side and held her in place. Another more familiar grip caught her at the shoulder and the two bodies worked to pull her up amidst the snapping, pawing undead grabbing for her.

When she was back on her feet, she tried to get her heart to slow down and her head to stop spinning in an adrenaline induced focus—that's when the shock started to overwhelm her and the world moved around her in slow motion. She returned her gaze down at the groaning mass below, arms reaching out ready to claw for her warmth and life that had just been dangling within reach. Barely registering anything except the deep breaths heaving in and out of her lungs, she didn't notice that Tyreese had let her go only to step back and try to evaluate her for any scratches or injuries.

From the corner of her eye, she saw that Bob stood at a distance clutching his bag and looking stricken. The smell of something was overpowering, something liquid no doubt. It was spread all over the ledge dampening the leaves; it's that slick foliage that had made her slip and fall. The smell seemed medicinal yet also different from that. She glanced over her shoulder to check her pack with the medicine, but it was thankfully intact and untouched.

Then she recognized what the smell was: some kind of liquor, bourbon maybe?

She didn't have long to think on it before Daryl's hands were at her face, snapping her attention back to what was in front of her. He caressed her and pulled her to him before letting her go again to check whether she was really okay. He let his lips brush against her temple as he unconsciously swayed her, not so much a kiss but an affirmation of her warmth and presence.

"Are you alright? Did they get you anywhere?" His voice was full of panic and worry, the tension in his arms hinting at uncoiled relief and anger as well.

But she assessed herself and everything seemed to be in working order and unharmed for the most part. Her lower half was completely covered with her pants, thick socks, and shoes so the walkers hadn't been able to penetrate that. The only things that hurt were her hands. She pulled slightly away from him and looked at the damage, a few shallow lacerations and some blood, all from when she'd tried grabbing for the ledge, but nothing too deep or serious at first glance.

"I think I'm okay." Daryl took her hands gently in his and traced along each cut, making sure they were indeed non-life threatening. It stung a little, yet she didn't stop him since she realized he needed this to assure himself that she was fine. It reminded her of when she'd first reacquainted herself with horseback riding so she could take Flame out on her runs. She'd had a few spills and bruises in the process. The one time that Daryl had been around to witness her misjudged timing when dismounting the horse, he'd flipped out at seeing her sprawled on the ground, winded and embarrassed but otherwise fine. Although it had amused her, she didn't dare make fun of his attentiveness. She knew it came from caring for her.

And now when he'd concluded his inspection—and he would not be moved until he'd finished—he brought her hands to his lips and kissed them gently briefly shutting his eyes to try and control emotions he'd never been comfortable expressing so openly.

It didn't completely work. When he reopened his eyes, the wildness to them remained.

Assuring himself that she would be fine, Michonne saw the way he let the anger resurface and take over as he turned to Bob. In the silence, the sense of escalation to a straight-up brawl gripped everyone's nerves. That overwhelming odor of alcohol lingered between the two men emphasizing how wrong all of it could have gone just now.

Daryl stalked over and reached for the pack Bob was clutching, the loose bag hiding a half empty liquor bottle with a broken cap screwed on top. "You got no meds in your bag? Just this?" He paused, not needing an answer. "You should have kept walking that day."

Michonne wasn't sure what he meant. Whatever the implication, Daryl was dead serious. He grabbed the bottle and made to throw it down at the walkers. At that, Bob flipped out, screaming for Daryl to stop and reaching for his gun.

It was the latter that meant there was no going back for the two men.

Daryl stalked towards Bob, got in his face right before taking his gun. Michonne noticed the man didn't protest, even if he was trying hard not to wilt at Daryl's bald aggression focused squarely on him.

She thought about pulling Daryl back, knew that she should because they were on a mission that was more important than any of this. But she also recalled reaching for Bob and watching him protect that bottle more than he'd been willing to protect her—a stranger yes, but a teammate. He had not had her back. So although she wasn't one to let a man fight her battles, she let Daryl be. He had his own bone to pick with the man after all, and she knew Daryl took his responsibilities to the group seriously having brought the man into their family. He fisted Bob's shirt as the other man looked ready to take whatever was coming to him.

"You better be damned grateful that Michonne is as strong as she is and that me and Ty had her back. If you had gotten her killed—" He cut himself off and hoisted Bob up even farther. "This one? This one's on you," he growled in Bob's face.

It was Tyreese that stepped in, and that shocked everyone enough to take a breath.

"Just let it go, Daryl. The man's made his choice. Nothing we can do about it. Just gotta let it go." Daryl looked as if he would protest and then thought better of it. Tyreese's loss was still too raw and his grieving process so fragile. If he was willing to offer that advice to Daryl, well, it meant something for the both of them. And at least Daryl had Michonne still standing at his side which was more than was allowed for Karen.

As she shifted her gaze between her three traveling companions, Bob glanced over at her, withering at the glare she directed towards him when she noticed his attention. He then looked down at his shoes.

"I didn't wanna hurt nobody. It was just for when it gets quiet."

Daryl chewed at his lip, agitated and still furious. Bob's words must have meant something to him though because he stopped to collect himself, roped in some of that anger.

"Well, your bullshit almost cost us Michonne, and I know you got a pretty good idea 'a how that sits with me." He let go of Bob but kept in his face. "You take one sip before those meds get into our people," he said with a quiet, focused fury, "I will beat your ass into the ground. You hear me." He handed the bottle back to him, picking up his crossbow and the supplies he'd dropped to get to her. He took one more look at her, a short stare, yet an intense one as if he was drinking every part of her in in just those few seconds. Turning sharply in the other direction, he stomped off. They all followed silently, Bob at the rear.

After their mad dash, it was downright eerie how quiet their descent was. They followed the walkway until it came to a set of fire escape stairs. The walkers had surrounded them for a ways but a fence kept them from advancing past where the stairs hit level. Tyreese reconfigured their position from Hershel's makeshift map and within 10 minutes they were back to where they'd parked their van. They loaded what they had in the back and while Tyreese spread the map out on the hood to reconfigure a route back to the prison, Bob stood off at a distance nursing a cigarette.

She'd tried to follow Tyreese to plan a path back to the highway, but Daryl stopped her without a word. He pushed her to sit at the back of the van as he grabbed the jug of water in the corner. Taking his red handkerchief from his pocket, he dampened it and went to cleaning the dirt and dried blood from her injured hands. The sting of the water brought a flood of emotions: Bob's cowardice, Daryl's reaction, her own feelings of panic about how close she'd come to dying. The burning on her hand reminded her at every pulse. When he was satisfied with his work, he wrapped the handkerchief around her left hand—the more injured one—and after tying it up securely, he stalked to the passenger seat without offering anything further to her.

Again, she understood how he needed to stew and she knew it was best that she let him. She rose up and joined Tyreese looking over the map, noticing that Daryl remained within earshot but clearly in no mood to interact.

It made sense for her and Tyreese to figure things out at this point having had more experience on these roads. It still didn't make her feel better about not having Daryl at her side offering his counsel even if silently. She thought this trip had reached peak levels of being messed up and yet it still managed to go above and beyond. She and Tyreese compared notes and made a final decision about the best way back.

"That's where I was traveling," Tyreese pointed out on the map. "Best route is highway 100. At least it was a few months ago."

"It was clear the last I went out. It'll take about seven hours to get there. We're gonna need more gas." That worried her a bit but Tyreese didn't seem phased.

"But we'll get there. We'll find what we need." Hearing that from Tyreese, again, she was struck by the journey they had all gone through since leaving the prison, this man especially. This wasn't the same man who'd picked a fight with Rick Grimes and then taken on a horde of walkers out of grief.

They folded up the map and he headed for the back. Michonne would do most of the driving, if not all. Daryl was too keyed up to drive right now and Bob was out of the question since no one trusted him at the moment, even if they did need him once they got back to the prison. Tyreese was exhausted, so he'd get some rest and maybe take the last leg if necessary.

As he passed Daryl, Tyreese stopped for a moment, hesitant about approaching the man who still looked pissed off enough to kick the shit out of anyone who breathed funny around him. "We're taking Highway 100."

"I heard," he snapped back, not quite rudely, more dismissive. Tyreese couldn't take it personally given how he'd behaved the entire day. Daryl had been more than patient with every one of his traveling companions and he was clearly done with their shit. She couldn't blame him for that.

And it hit her suddenly but softly, what she had to do.

She climbed into the driver's seat next to him, planting her katana in the space between them. He was rolling over that piece of jasper they'd found. He'd been annoyed with her then and had still managed to have a moment of lightness with her. She didn't think that'd be happening now.

Bob still lingered outside the van, enjoying the last of his cigarette before the inevitable tension he'd face during the trip back. Tyreese was at the rear securing their supplies and pulling out items they might want in the main cabin for the long ride. That left her and Daryl alone for the moment.

"You were right what you said before," she said to him quietly; intently. "About the trail going cold? So I'm saying okay. I don't need to go out anymore looking for him. It's not too much to ask, Daryl. I'm in this. With you."

Daryl had stopped twirling the chunk of rock in his hand as she spoke. At their silence he started up again for a moment before palming it.

"Good." And then he closed his door with a fair bit of force.

Michonne supposed she shouldn't expect a grander response than that. The man was at the end of his rope after all. But he'd flashed her a look as he'd said that one word, a look that showed how much he'd been wanting to hear that, how long he'd waited. How relieved. As Bob and Tyreese piled in, she started up the van and began their long trek home.

There was no going back and forth over her decision. She cared about Daryl and his reaction today at her almost dying was one of a million ways he showed her how much he cared about her. She could do this for him. Would do this. Getting past her demons filled with guilt and responsibility would be difficult. And she had no intention of stopping her hunt completely—that's not what Daryl had asked her for anyway. But she could give him what he wanted, which was herself, fully and completely; including him and letting him know that it was them against the world now. The tension at her shoulders eased just a bit thinking about the possibilities of that going forward.

They'd been driving for about 20 minutes, still in complete silence. Daryl stared out his window vacantly, leg propped up. Whatever he was thinking about, it still had a hold of his emotions and he wasn't letting go. Tyreese remained awake in the back, staring ahead at their route, occasionally taking in the looks of things out in the world: the remnants of walkers at the side of the road, the abandoned buildings they'd pass. He'd be asleep soon judging by the way he leaned into his seat. Bob kept his gaze downward, knowing that no one in the car would welcome his idle chatter on this leg of their run. She wished he'd at least keep an eye out for abandoned cars or facilities that might yield some gas, but his self-pity overruled any leftover sense of contributing to this mission.

So that duty fell to her as she drove, although she was sure Daryl had her back as usual on that point even if he wasn't really speaking to her about it. She'd be lying if she didn't miss his attention. But she'd had her moment of coldness the day before and he was allowed his.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her and she wondered if it was the first step in the thaw. She clenched the steering wheel and then winced at the pain in her hand, settling it into her lap and driving just with the left one that had the cushion of his wrap.

A moment later, she felt him reach over and brush his thumb over her fingers, prompting her to reveal her palm to him. He inspected her cuts again, but nothing was bleeding, it was just uncomfortable and exposed. When he satisfied himself about this, instead of retreating, he kept his hand in hers.

He still held his gaze fixed out in front of him, scanning the landscape, but the warmth of his fingers tracing hers was all she needed.

TBC...