Fic: fallen empires, The Walking Dead (4/5) Con't
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*
Glenn doesn’t sleep. He gets up when Rick limps down from the wall, leaning on his El, and climbs up, looking out at the darkened, burned woods.
In the distance, fire still burns bright orange and deep red. Sooner or later the wind’ll bring it back around, sweeping down over Fort Benning, burning them all alive.
It’s peaceful, though, up here. The group is asleep, or pretending to be. The camp is clear of walkers for now. They’re-not safe, not ever-calm, content to rest.
Meiri sits on Glenn’s shoulders, watching with her dark eyes. She doesn’t speak, hasn’t spoken, really since Daryl held her in his arms.
What does that mean, Glenn wonders, thinking, feeling her own storm of thoughts. What does it mean if someone touches your daemon and it doesn’t hurt?
He was raised with the taboo-you do not touch another’s daemon, ever. It’s a form of rape, he’d been told, it’s a crime punishable by death. A daemon was a person’s soul, was a part of them, and you didn’t just run around grabbing that.
It was wrong.
Others had brushed up against Mei, a couple of times, and the nausea had been so bad Glenn nearly passed out.
But he’d stroked Cahir, and Daryl had held Meiri, and that had been amazing.
Had the taboo fallen? It made sense, really. They lived in a world where the dead rose and walked and ate people’s flesh and souls. Maybe the taboo had just collapsed under the weight of that, and now it was okay to touch someone’s daemon.
Now, it didn’t hurt.
“Shhh,” Meiri mutters, her eyes half-closed. “Don’t think. Just… be.”
He kind of wants to argue with her, but he won’t. He’s too tired. Too weighed down. Too much has happened, these last few days.
So he sits against the dark, watching the fires burn in the distance, with Mei warm against his neck.
And then, when Andrea comes and relieves him from watch, he sleeps.
*
He’s running again, running and running and there’s a fire in his chest, sparking up ahead.
Rick is gone-El doesn’t run at his side. Shane’s missing too, and Glenn hears Kali’s howl, raised high against the roar of the horde.
Glenn trips in the water, nearly falls, and his hand hurts, it’s a bloody mess, but he doesn’t let go of the knife-
He won’t let go of the knife.
“Come on, Glenn,” Meiri whispers against his neck, her fur fluffed and bristling, fear pooling between them. “Come on, Glenn, just a little farther-”
*
“Glenn,” Maggie hisses, shaking him awake, and he jerks, reaching for the shard of knife in his pocket.
“Wha’?”
Mei’s awake instantly, bristling against his chest, short, harsh chuffs spilling from her throat.
Far off, Glenn hears the low, continuous moan of walkers.
“Where are they?” he hisses, reaching for a gun. “Maggie, here, get behind me-”
In the darkness she gives him a flat look, a gun cradled in her hands. Luke rides on her shoulder, his fur fluffed and his eyes flashing, reflecting the dim light. “At the gate,” she says, and nods.
Shane comes back, silhouetted by the stars. Kali is a shadow by his side. “There’s dozens of them out there,” she growls. “Just pressing up against the gate. They’re trying to get in.”
“Do they know we’re here?” Rick asks, his voice a rasp. He’s not looking too good-he’s too pale by half, leaning against Lori. El’s missing-she’s somewhere else, then, probably checking the other gate.
The fact that she’s not with Rick sends a discomfort through Glenn, but he ignores it.
“No,” says Kali. “Don’t think so, anyway.”
“The fire’s coming back,” Gazini croaks, from his place on Andrea’s shoulder. Andrea nods.
“We saw the winds change-they’re bringing the fire back this way. My guess is the walkers are trying to get away from it.”
“Will they get through the gate?”
“Can we risk it?”
“Rick,” El sings out, in her deep, lovely voice. She lopes back to her man’s side but she’s limping heavily. “They’re at the other gate too, a bunch of them. Too many.”
Glenn’s heart sinks. They’re trapped, then.
“Maybe we can get on the walls?” Lori says, pulling Carl close, though Carl is watching his father, and Leah is in a German Shepherd’s shape at his side. “Wait ‘em out?”
Rick shakes his head. “They’d see us, and then wait us out. We can’t outwait the dead. We have no food, no water. We’d last a day up there, maybe two, and then we’d have to come down into them or die.”
Shit, Glenn thinks.
“There has to be a way out of here,” Andrea says. Dale nods, Nurya flapping around his head. “We can’t just sit and wait for them to break in.”
They start to argue, all of them, shouting at Rick, and if the walkers didn’t know they were here before, they do now.
Glenn closes his eyes. He doesn’t join in, doesn’t let panic slither into his blood and hold him there. He breathes, and memorizes the weight of Mei on his shoulders.
He’ll kill himself before they eat her. He’s got the knife, it shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is slit his own throat and he’s dead in seconds. It probably won’t even hurt, that much. It’ll be a relief, he thinks. And end.
Yes, I could do that. End it.
There’s nothing left anyway, is there? No safe havens, no Republics, nothing to go to and live towards. Just ashes and Specters.
His fingers inch towards the knife. Will it be nice, he wonders, the end? Will it be heaven, or will it just be nothing? Just a dreamless sleep, forever and ever?
“Glenn,” Meiri says, raggedly, but she doesn’t fight. She’s thinking of gnashing teeth and grasping hands, being torn apart while he screams for her.
It’s better this way, isn’t it. This is what Jacqui learned, that day with Jenner. (Jacqui’s daemon had been an ermine named Esca, a cute little thing, always kind and gentle. Jenner’s had been an eagle, and maybe she’d been noble once, but when Glenn saw her her feathers had been dull and her wings broken.)
“It’s better this way,” he murmurs, and pulls the piece of broken knife from his pocket.
“Hey!” Daryl’s voice, sharp and demanding, breaks Glenn’s haze.
He’s standing at the mouth of the building of the Republic of Heaven, and Cahir’s eyes flash green and gold.
Everyone quiets.
“There’s tunnels down here,” Daryl says.
“Tunnels?”
Daryl nods.
“We smelled them,” Cahir explains, showing his teeth. “They go deep and far.”
“Do they end?”
“We felt wind down there, so they’ve gotta.”
Rick steps forward, rocking off his bad leg. “Is it safe?”
“Safer ‘n waitin’ up here.”
No one can argue with that, and as one they move forward, pressing in to the tiny building. Sure enough, there’s a deep, rough-hewn tunnel (fucking weird, Glenn thinks) in the earth.
Shane disappears and comes back a few minutes later with torches blazing: the fire throws up strange, flickering shadows.
Above the tunnel entrance is a hand-painted sign, and Glenn reads it and something that’s half fear, half relief, twists in his chest.
(He doesn’t put the knife down, and Meiri presses against his neck, desperate, afraid.)
He licks his lips. “Behold the Republic of Heaven,” he reads, and the flames shiver.
Daryl shoots him a long, unreadable look. “Well c’mon,” he says, and leads the way down into the darkness.
*
Glenn doesn’t sleep. He gets up when Rick limps down from the wall, leaning on his El, and climbs up, looking out at the darkened, burned woods.
In the distance, fire still burns bright orange and deep red. Sooner or later the wind’ll bring it back around, sweeping down over Fort Benning, burning them all alive.
It’s peaceful, though, up here. The group is asleep, or pretending to be. The camp is clear of walkers for now. They’re-not safe, not ever-calm, content to rest.
Meiri sits on Glenn’s shoulders, watching with her dark eyes. She doesn’t speak, hasn’t spoken, really since Daryl held her in his arms.
What does that mean, Glenn wonders, thinking, feeling her own storm of thoughts. What does it mean if someone touches your daemon and it doesn’t hurt?
He was raised with the taboo-you do not touch another’s daemon, ever. It’s a form of rape, he’d been told, it’s a crime punishable by death. A daemon was a person’s soul, was a part of them, and you didn’t just run around grabbing that.
It was wrong.
Others had brushed up against Mei, a couple of times, and the nausea had been so bad Glenn nearly passed out.
But he’d stroked Cahir, and Daryl had held Meiri, and that had been amazing.
Had the taboo fallen? It made sense, really. They lived in a world where the dead rose and walked and ate people’s flesh and souls. Maybe the taboo had just collapsed under the weight of that, and now it was okay to touch someone’s daemon.
Now, it didn’t hurt.
“Shhh,” Meiri mutters, her eyes half-closed. “Don’t think. Just… be.”
He kind of wants to argue with her, but he won’t. He’s too tired. Too weighed down. Too much has happened, these last few days.
So he sits against the dark, watching the fires burn in the distance, with Mei warm against his neck.
And then, when Andrea comes and relieves him from watch, he sleeps.
*
He’s running again, running and running and there’s a fire in his chest, sparking up ahead.
Rick is gone-El doesn’t run at his side. Shane’s missing too, and Glenn hears Kali’s howl, raised high against the roar of the horde.
Glenn trips in the water, nearly falls, and his hand hurts, it’s a bloody mess, but he doesn’t let go of the knife-
He won’t let go of the knife.
“Come on, Glenn,” Meiri whispers against his neck, her fur fluffed and bristling, fear pooling between them. “Come on, Glenn, just a little farther-”
*
“Glenn,” Maggie hisses, shaking him awake, and he jerks, reaching for the shard of knife in his pocket.
“Wha’?”
Mei’s awake instantly, bristling against his chest, short, harsh chuffs spilling from her throat.
Far off, Glenn hears the low, continuous moan of walkers.
“Where are they?” he hisses, reaching for a gun. “Maggie, here, get behind me-”
In the darkness she gives him a flat look, a gun cradled in her hands. Luke rides on her shoulder, his fur fluffed and his eyes flashing, reflecting the dim light. “At the gate,” she says, and nods.
Shane comes back, silhouetted by the stars. Kali is a shadow by his side. “There’s dozens of them out there,” she growls. “Just pressing up against the gate. They’re trying to get in.”
“Do they know we’re here?” Rick asks, his voice a rasp. He’s not looking too good-he’s too pale by half, leaning against Lori. El’s missing-she’s somewhere else, then, probably checking the other gate.
The fact that she’s not with Rick sends a discomfort through Glenn, but he ignores it.
“No,” says Kali. “Don’t think so, anyway.”
“The fire’s coming back,” Gazini croaks, from his place on Andrea’s shoulder. Andrea nods.
“We saw the winds change-they’re bringing the fire back this way. My guess is the walkers are trying to get away from it.”
“Will they get through the gate?”
“Can we risk it?”
“Rick,” El sings out, in her deep, lovely voice. She lopes back to her man’s side but she’s limping heavily. “They’re at the other gate too, a bunch of them. Too many.”
Glenn’s heart sinks. They’re trapped, then.
“Maybe we can get on the walls?” Lori says, pulling Carl close, though Carl is watching his father, and Leah is in a German Shepherd’s shape at his side. “Wait ‘em out?”
Rick shakes his head. “They’d see us, and then wait us out. We can’t outwait the dead. We have no food, no water. We’d last a day up there, maybe two, and then we’d have to come down into them or die.”
Shit, Glenn thinks.
“There has to be a way out of here,” Andrea says. Dale nods, Nurya flapping around his head. “We can’t just sit and wait for them to break in.”
They start to argue, all of them, shouting at Rick, and if the walkers didn’t know they were here before, they do now.
Glenn closes his eyes. He doesn’t join in, doesn’t let panic slither into his blood and hold him there. He breathes, and memorizes the weight of Mei on his shoulders.
He’ll kill himself before they eat her. He’s got the knife, it shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is slit his own throat and he’s dead in seconds. It probably won’t even hurt, that much. It’ll be a relief, he thinks. And end.
Yes, I could do that. End it.
There’s nothing left anyway, is there? No safe havens, no Republics, nothing to go to and live towards. Just ashes and Specters.
His fingers inch towards the knife. Will it be nice, he wonders, the end? Will it be heaven, or will it just be nothing? Just a dreamless sleep, forever and ever?
“Glenn,” Meiri says, raggedly, but she doesn’t fight. She’s thinking of gnashing teeth and grasping hands, being torn apart while he screams for her.
It’s better this way, isn’t it. This is what Jacqui learned, that day with Jenner. (Jacqui’s daemon had been an ermine named Esca, a cute little thing, always kind and gentle. Jenner’s had been an eagle, and maybe she’d been noble once, but when Glenn saw her her feathers had been dull and her wings broken.)
“It’s better this way,” he murmurs, and pulls the piece of broken knife from his pocket.
“Hey!” Daryl’s voice, sharp and demanding, breaks Glenn’s haze.
He’s standing at the mouth of the building of the Republic of Heaven, and Cahir’s eyes flash green and gold.
Everyone quiets.
“There’s tunnels down here,” Daryl says.
“Tunnels?”
Daryl nods.
“We smelled them,” Cahir explains, showing his teeth. “They go deep and far.”
“Do they end?”
“We felt wind down there, so they’ve gotta.”
Rick steps forward, rocking off his bad leg. “Is it safe?”
“Safer ‘n waitin’ up here.”
No one can argue with that, and as one they move forward, pressing in to the tiny building. Sure enough, there’s a deep, rough-hewn tunnel (fucking weird, Glenn thinks) in the earth.
Shane disappears and comes back a few minutes later with torches blazing: the fire throws up strange, flickering shadows.
Above the tunnel entrance is a hand-painted sign, and Glenn reads it and something that’s half fear, half relief, twists in his chest.
(He doesn’t put the knife down, and Meiri presses against his neck, desperate, afraid.)
He licks his lips. “Behold the Republic of Heaven,” he reads, and the flames shiver.
Daryl shoots him a long, unreadable look. “Well c’mon,” he says, and leads the way down into the darkness.