Fic: fallen empires, the walking dead (1/4)
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Glenn’s pretty sure no one sleeps again.
They all go back to their tents, but no one sleeps. Rick and Lori talk all night long in low, hushed whispers, and Shane and Andrea throw subtlety out the window.
Everyone’s thinking about Jim, how he started the same way, ranting and raving and tearing up the ground. Glenn wasn’t there to see it, but apparently it was pretty bad.
If Hershel goes like Jim…
“Don’t think about it,” Meiri whispers, when they’re packing up in the early morning light. Hershel’s on his feet again, and he’s still not talking to anybody. Maggie’s eyes are red-rimmed, and she holds her chest. She, and the rest of Hershel’s people, don’t talk to anyone.
“Everybody ready to go?” Rick straightens, wiping another sleepless night out of his eyes.
He gets a vague chorus of yeahs, and they start moving again.
“We’re about twenty miles away from Fort Benning,” Cahir rumbles, tilting his head up. The wolf daemon pads at Glenn’s side, tail twitching.
Meiri peers down at him, tickling the back of Glenn’s neck. “And the Republic of Heaven?”
The wolf shrugs. “Maybe.”
Meiri mutters something unintelligible about obnoxious wolves and scrambles down off of Glenn’s shoulder, bouncing beside Cahir as they keep moving.
Glenn smiles and Daryl rolls his eyes. Daemons are weird.
Nobody talks for a while. It’s freakishly hot out, even if it is fall, and after a couple hours of walking Glenn sort of feels like he’s going to fall over.
Hershel’s group falls behind pretty quick. They’re not exactly out of shape, but they’ve been sitting at the farm since all this went down while the rest of the survivors have been moving. Hershel’s struggling the most, and Maggie won’t leave him, and the others won’t leave her.
Glenn chews his lip. He should go back there and help out, because that’s the nice guy thing to do. It’s not their fault they haven’t had to run; they were in a good place when the virus spread, and it stayed good until they killed all the walkers.
But if Hershel has another meltdown…
Glenn chews his lip and turns around, ready to go back and see if he can help out.
“Don’t,” Shane says lowly, spinning Glenn back around. His eyes are dark and hooded, and Kali looks solemnly up at Glenn. He’s uncomfortably reminded of very sharp teeth. “You ain’t one of them. Stick with us.”
Glenn opens his mouth to argue, but Cahir nips Meiri warningly and Daryl not-so-subtly kicks Glenn’s ankle.
He closes his mouth.
Shane nods, slow like he’s thinking about something, and then he wanders off, back up at the front next to Rick.
“Why’d you do that?” Glenn snaps, glaring at Daryl.
The other man shrugs. “Think it’s a good idea to argue with him?”
Daryl has a point, because Shane’s been… off ever since the barn, and Kali could probably eat Meiri in two or three bites, but still.
Glenn looks back one more time at Maggie, and she shakes her head.
“Fine,” he mutters, still sullen.
Meiri rubs against his leg once, blinking up at him.
Daryl sighs. “Talk to her later, if you want to so bad. When Shane’s not lookin’.”
Glenn nods and relaxes. “Yeah.”
Cahir growls and he’s glaring up at Kali, ears pinned back. Glenn raises his eyebrows.
“Cahir doesn’t like Kali?”
Daryl shrugs. “Does Meiri?”
“Good point.”
Meiri chuffs angrily, agreeing, and climbs onto Cahir’s back.
Uh, Meiri?
Cahir lets her, and the otter settles onto his shoulders easily. Glenn sneaks a glance at Daryl and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so the Asian doesn’t say anything.
Daemons are weird.
It’s too hot to talk much, and they keep moving, shuffling through the heavy heat. Around noonish they find a creek and stop to soak in it, groaning in the cool water. There aren’t many walkers out here in the backwoods. The closer they get to towns, the more there’ll be, but out here in the sticks they don’t have to worry much. The one or two they do find are so starved and pathetic-looking its almost not worth the effort it takes to kill them.
They are put down, though. Rick and Shane go at them like each and every dead bastard has eaten their loved ones. Glenn’s half-expecting El and Kali to start fighting each other over the bodies, but they don’t.
Glenn mostly just watches these executions, and Meiri stays perched on Cahir’s back.
“Ain’t even worth an arrow,” Daryl says quietly.
They keep walking.
They find some bodies on the sides of the roads every now and then, wrapped in tarps or just left to rot. Some of them were walkers killed by people who went before, and others are people who got bit, or got sick, or just plain died.
A lot of them have pieces of wood stuffed into their mouths. Glenn doesn’t know what that’s about, and he doesn’t really want to open a dead guy’s mouth to find out, but still, it’s something to think about as they’re walking.
It’s also better than thinking about the way the group’s walking, or how Andrea’s Gazini claws at Nurya, Dale’s owl, or how El and Kali snap and snarl at each other when Lori’s Cass isn’t looking, or how Carl’s daemon Leah, who used to be lively and curious, stays wrapped around his neck as a little brown snake.
Meiri, picking up on what Glenn tries not to think about, whispers to Cahir, and the wolf lopes from his man’s side and pads next to Carl.
Slowly, Leah unloops from Carl’s neck and drops down as a dog to walk beside the wolf. After a second, Meiri reaches out, balancing on Cahir’s back, and swats Leah across the nose.
At once there’s an eruption of barks as Leah tackles Meiri and Cahir rolls over, pushing the two off. Meiri runs, laughing, and Leah follows, shedding her puppy shape for an otter’s.
Cahir joins in, snapping playfully, and soon the three daemons are racing around in an all-out game of tag, barking and rolling in the dirt.
Shane glares at all of them like they are personally inviting every walker in the tri-state area down on his head, but everyone else watches and seems to relax, just a little. Some even join in, and pretty soon Nurya, El, and Luke are crashing around chasing Meiri.
Glenn can’t help it. Everyone knows you and your daemon feel the same thing, and Meiri’s running around laughing her head off like an idiot. He really can’t be held responsible.
He jumps forward, tackling Daryl, and shouts “you’re it!” at the top of his lungs before running like hell.
Glenn doesn’t regret it, either, even if it does end up with his head underwater, flailing loudly while Carl cracks up and the rest of the group looks on in fond exasperation.
When Daryl finally lets him up, Glenn grins blindingly and Meiri climbs back up on Cahir’s head.
“Dumbass,” Daryl says, rolling his eyes.
“You love us,” Meiri says primly, wiping the water out of her whiskers.
Cahir laughs, and they start walking again.
*
“Think it’s safe?” Glenn eyes the building-short, squat, and built more like a bunker than anything-warily. It looks okay, except there are some pretty fresh bloodstains on the sides (including, of course, the necessary bloody handprint) and dead bodies lying around.
Rick shrugs. “We got another choice?”
They really don’t. It’s almost dark and there’s not another building for miles, probably, and now they know there are walkers in the area. No one wants to spend the night outside and unprotected, not when there’s a relatively safe-looking place ten feet in front of them.
“Wanna risk it?” Shane’s eyes gleam in the dim light, and Kali licks her teeth.
“We better,” Rick says. “We can clear it room by room. There don’t seem to be any walkers around now, but they might come back.”
Daryl unhooks his crossbow. “Let’s get to it then.”
“Everybody wait out here for a couple of minutes. T-Dog, Dale, Andrea, back them up against a wall, keep your eyes peeled.”
They nod and the group splits again. Glenn follows Daryl, Rick and Shane into the building without even thinking about it, reaching for his gun. Meiri, back on his shoulder, drops into his pack so nothing can surprise them and get her.
The building’s quiet. He kind of expected to hear snarling and screaming, maybe see bloody body parts or flickering lights, but everything’s uniformly silent and dark, and they get their flashlights reluctantly.
The place looks peaceful, except for the occasional bloodstain here and there. It doesn’t look like whoever living here was overrun; it looks like they weathered an attack, cleaned up (the bodies, anyway) and moved on.
Cool.
“Clear,” Rick whispers, farther down the hall. El growls an agreement, and Meiri pokes her head out to look around.
“Nice place,” she whispers. It’s not, really, but it isn’t a few tents pitched in the dirt, so Glenn’s not complaining. There doesn’t seem to be any electricity, but if he’s hearing things right, there’s at least running water.
“Clear here too,” Shane calls.
“Fuckin’ stupid,” Daryl mutters, but yells “clear” anyway.
“Okay,” Rick says. “Looks like we can spend the night. Wanna let everybody know?”
Shane nods and disappears down the hallway.
“Damn,” Daryl says. “Place is pretty well-stocked. Looks like a bunker, almost.”
Sure enough, in each of the little rooms there’s a different pile of supplies. Canned food, nearly a dozen packs of bottled water, some first aid stuff, even what looks like a distillery for moonshine.
“Thank god for rednecks,” Glenn mutters. Daryl huffs.
Meiri climbs back onto Glenn’s shoulder, claws digging in. “That door’s locked,” she says, nodding at it. Glenn frowns and jiggles the nob. The door doesn’t budge, and it’s enough to set his hair on end.
“Rick? We might have a problem.”
The other man comes over and gives the door a try for himself. He frowns, and El’s hackles go up. “Daryl?”
“On three,” he agrees, knocking a bolt. “One…two…three!”
Rick kicks and the door caves inward, crashing loudly. The three men wait, weapons aimed inwards, straining to hear that walker rattle.
Glenn shines a flashlight into the depths, and two pairs of eyes shine back.
Glenn’s pretty sure no one sleeps again.
They all go back to their tents, but no one sleeps. Rick and Lori talk all night long in low, hushed whispers, and Shane and Andrea throw subtlety out the window.
Everyone’s thinking about Jim, how he started the same way, ranting and raving and tearing up the ground. Glenn wasn’t there to see it, but apparently it was pretty bad.
If Hershel goes like Jim…
“Don’t think about it,” Meiri whispers, when they’re packing up in the early morning light. Hershel’s on his feet again, and he’s still not talking to anybody. Maggie’s eyes are red-rimmed, and she holds her chest. She, and the rest of Hershel’s people, don’t talk to anyone.
“Everybody ready to go?” Rick straightens, wiping another sleepless night out of his eyes.
He gets a vague chorus of yeahs, and they start moving again.
“We’re about twenty miles away from Fort Benning,” Cahir rumbles, tilting his head up. The wolf daemon pads at Glenn’s side, tail twitching.
Meiri peers down at him, tickling the back of Glenn’s neck. “And the Republic of Heaven?”
The wolf shrugs. “Maybe.”
Meiri mutters something unintelligible about obnoxious wolves and scrambles down off of Glenn’s shoulder, bouncing beside Cahir as they keep moving.
Glenn smiles and Daryl rolls his eyes. Daemons are weird.
Nobody talks for a while. It’s freakishly hot out, even if it is fall, and after a couple hours of walking Glenn sort of feels like he’s going to fall over.
Hershel’s group falls behind pretty quick. They’re not exactly out of shape, but they’ve been sitting at the farm since all this went down while the rest of the survivors have been moving. Hershel’s struggling the most, and Maggie won’t leave him, and the others won’t leave her.
Glenn chews his lip. He should go back there and help out, because that’s the nice guy thing to do. It’s not their fault they haven’t had to run; they were in a good place when the virus spread, and it stayed good until they killed all the walkers.
But if Hershel has another meltdown…
Glenn chews his lip and turns around, ready to go back and see if he can help out.
“Don’t,” Shane says lowly, spinning Glenn back around. His eyes are dark and hooded, and Kali looks solemnly up at Glenn. He’s uncomfortably reminded of very sharp teeth. “You ain’t one of them. Stick with us.”
Glenn opens his mouth to argue, but Cahir nips Meiri warningly and Daryl not-so-subtly kicks Glenn’s ankle.
He closes his mouth.
Shane nods, slow like he’s thinking about something, and then he wanders off, back up at the front next to Rick.
“Why’d you do that?” Glenn snaps, glaring at Daryl.
The other man shrugs. “Think it’s a good idea to argue with him?”
Daryl has a point, because Shane’s been… off ever since the barn, and Kali could probably eat Meiri in two or three bites, but still.
Glenn looks back one more time at Maggie, and she shakes her head.
“Fine,” he mutters, still sullen.
Meiri rubs against his leg once, blinking up at him.
Daryl sighs. “Talk to her later, if you want to so bad. When Shane’s not lookin’.”
Glenn nods and relaxes. “Yeah.”
Cahir growls and he’s glaring up at Kali, ears pinned back. Glenn raises his eyebrows.
“Cahir doesn’t like Kali?”
Daryl shrugs. “Does Meiri?”
“Good point.”
Meiri chuffs angrily, agreeing, and climbs onto Cahir’s back.
Uh, Meiri?
Cahir lets her, and the otter settles onto his shoulders easily. Glenn sneaks a glance at Daryl and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so the Asian doesn’t say anything.
Daemons are weird.
It’s too hot to talk much, and they keep moving, shuffling through the heavy heat. Around noonish they find a creek and stop to soak in it, groaning in the cool water. There aren’t many walkers out here in the backwoods. The closer they get to towns, the more there’ll be, but out here in the sticks they don’t have to worry much. The one or two they do find are so starved and pathetic-looking its almost not worth the effort it takes to kill them.
They are put down, though. Rick and Shane go at them like each and every dead bastard has eaten their loved ones. Glenn’s half-expecting El and Kali to start fighting each other over the bodies, but they don’t.
Glenn mostly just watches these executions, and Meiri stays perched on Cahir’s back.
“Ain’t even worth an arrow,” Daryl says quietly.
They keep walking.
They find some bodies on the sides of the roads every now and then, wrapped in tarps or just left to rot. Some of them were walkers killed by people who went before, and others are people who got bit, or got sick, or just plain died.
A lot of them have pieces of wood stuffed into their mouths. Glenn doesn’t know what that’s about, and he doesn’t really want to open a dead guy’s mouth to find out, but still, it’s something to think about as they’re walking.
It’s also better than thinking about the way the group’s walking, or how Andrea’s Gazini claws at Nurya, Dale’s owl, or how El and Kali snap and snarl at each other when Lori’s Cass isn’t looking, or how Carl’s daemon Leah, who used to be lively and curious, stays wrapped around his neck as a little brown snake.
Meiri, picking up on what Glenn tries not to think about, whispers to Cahir, and the wolf lopes from his man’s side and pads next to Carl.
Slowly, Leah unloops from Carl’s neck and drops down as a dog to walk beside the wolf. After a second, Meiri reaches out, balancing on Cahir’s back, and swats Leah across the nose.
At once there’s an eruption of barks as Leah tackles Meiri and Cahir rolls over, pushing the two off. Meiri runs, laughing, and Leah follows, shedding her puppy shape for an otter’s.
Cahir joins in, snapping playfully, and soon the three daemons are racing around in an all-out game of tag, barking and rolling in the dirt.
Shane glares at all of them like they are personally inviting every walker in the tri-state area down on his head, but everyone else watches and seems to relax, just a little. Some even join in, and pretty soon Nurya, El, and Luke are crashing around chasing Meiri.
Glenn can’t help it. Everyone knows you and your daemon feel the same thing, and Meiri’s running around laughing her head off like an idiot. He really can’t be held responsible.
He jumps forward, tackling Daryl, and shouts “you’re it!” at the top of his lungs before running like hell.
Glenn doesn’t regret it, either, even if it does end up with his head underwater, flailing loudly while Carl cracks up and the rest of the group looks on in fond exasperation.
When Daryl finally lets him up, Glenn grins blindingly and Meiri climbs back up on Cahir’s head.
“Dumbass,” Daryl says, rolling his eyes.
“You love us,” Meiri says primly, wiping the water out of her whiskers.
Cahir laughs, and they start walking again.
*
“Think it’s safe?” Glenn eyes the building-short, squat, and built more like a bunker than anything-warily. It looks okay, except there are some pretty fresh bloodstains on the sides (including, of course, the necessary bloody handprint) and dead bodies lying around.
Rick shrugs. “We got another choice?”
They really don’t. It’s almost dark and there’s not another building for miles, probably, and now they know there are walkers in the area. No one wants to spend the night outside and unprotected, not when there’s a relatively safe-looking place ten feet in front of them.
“Wanna risk it?” Shane’s eyes gleam in the dim light, and Kali licks her teeth.
“We better,” Rick says. “We can clear it room by room. There don’t seem to be any walkers around now, but they might come back.”
Daryl unhooks his crossbow. “Let’s get to it then.”
“Everybody wait out here for a couple of minutes. T-Dog, Dale, Andrea, back them up against a wall, keep your eyes peeled.”
They nod and the group splits again. Glenn follows Daryl, Rick and Shane into the building without even thinking about it, reaching for his gun. Meiri, back on his shoulder, drops into his pack so nothing can surprise them and get her.
The building’s quiet. He kind of expected to hear snarling and screaming, maybe see bloody body parts or flickering lights, but everything’s uniformly silent and dark, and they get their flashlights reluctantly.
The place looks peaceful, except for the occasional bloodstain here and there. It doesn’t look like whoever living here was overrun; it looks like they weathered an attack, cleaned up (the bodies, anyway) and moved on.
Cool.
“Clear,” Rick whispers, farther down the hall. El growls an agreement, and Meiri pokes her head out to look around.
“Nice place,” she whispers. It’s not, really, but it isn’t a few tents pitched in the dirt, so Glenn’s not complaining. There doesn’t seem to be any electricity, but if he’s hearing things right, there’s at least running water.
“Clear here too,” Shane calls.
“Fuckin’ stupid,” Daryl mutters, but yells “clear” anyway.
“Okay,” Rick says. “Looks like we can spend the night. Wanna let everybody know?”
Shane nods and disappears down the hallway.
“Damn,” Daryl says. “Place is pretty well-stocked. Looks like a bunker, almost.”
Sure enough, in each of the little rooms there’s a different pile of supplies. Canned food, nearly a dozen packs of bottled water, some first aid stuff, even what looks like a distillery for moonshine.
“Thank god for rednecks,” Glenn mutters. Daryl huffs.
Meiri climbs back onto Glenn’s shoulder, claws digging in. “That door’s locked,” she says, nodding at it. Glenn frowns and jiggles the nob. The door doesn’t budge, and it’s enough to set his hair on end.
“Rick? We might have a problem.”
The other man comes over and gives the door a try for himself. He frowns, and El’s hackles go up. “Daryl?”
“On three,” he agrees, knocking a bolt. “One…two…three!”
Rick kicks and the door caves inward, crashing loudly. The three men wait, weapons aimed inwards, straining to hear that walker rattle.
Glenn shines a flashlight into the depths, and two pairs of eyes shine back.