Safe haven | Rick Grimes

097. WANTING TO FIGHT

Chapter ninety seven

"Wanting to fight."

The wagon rolled smoothly up the winding dirt path toward the Hilltop perimeter. Up on the catwalk, the guards threw the heavy levers, and the wooden gates swung wide to let them pass. The team brought the horses to a complete stop in the bustling inner courtyard. Dog bounded over the side panels first, followed closely by Daryl, Caroline, and Rosita. Up front, Rick, Judith, Gracie, and Aaron hopped down from the driver's bench and fell into a tight pack, heading together toward the safety of the main house.

While Rosita split off to visit the medical clinic for a standard checkup, the children headed up to one of the residential rooms to decompress from the long road. Daryl reclined against the wall on the floorboards, idly tossing his football up into the air and catching it, while Dog lay curled up contentedly at his side. On the main mattress, Rick was curled up taking a quiet afternoon nap. Nearby, Judith, Gracie, and Caroline sat in a close circle, passing the time by braiding each other's hair.

The low, powerful roar of a familiar motorcycle engine suddenly cut through the quiet air outside.

Dog's ears perked up instantly. Daryl caught the football midair and stood up, walking purposefully over to the glass window to peer down into the courtyard. Uncle Daryl was riding into the square, his bike kicking up dust, with Lydia holding tightly to his waist from the rear seat.

"Is everything okay?" Gracie asked, noticing the sudden shift in his posture.

Daryl watched in silence as Kelly, Yumiko, and Luke hurried across the grass to meet the bike. Lydia dismounted first, but as Uncle Daryl swung his leg over the frame, his movements were stiff and labored.

"He's hurt," Daryl told the room, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" Judith asked.

She and Caroline immediately abandoned their hair-braiding and rushed over to the glass to see for themselves. Down below, Uncle Daryl was clutching the side of his head, his face contorted in pain as he stumbled away from his motorcycle toward the main building.

"And he has absolutely no idea that Mom is gone," Rick murmured from the bed, having quietly woken up from his nap. The three older siblings turned their heads, locking eyes with him as the heavy reality of their mother's solo voyage out to sea loomed over the reunion.

But soon, the urgency in the air shifted. The adults came rushing through the halls, methodically rounding up all the children. Gracie led the pack down the wooden stairs, while Dog trotted faithfully beside Daryl. Judith stepped out in front with Daryl, while Caroline and Rick followed closely behind as they all headed toward the waiting transport wagon.

Uncle Daryl stood by the horses, his face tight with pain.

Judith marched straight up to him, her eyes fierce. "Uncle Daryl. We want to fight."

Uncle Daryl looked down at the four siblings, seeing the unmistakable Grimes fire burning in their eyes. "I know you do," he said softly, his voice a gravelly grunt.

"We're not—" Daryl started to protest, ready to back his sister up.

"Don't argue," Uncle Daryl cut him off firmly, leaving no room for a debate. He turned his gaze down to the youngest. "Rick, come on. Let's get you up."

Rick didn't move right away. He looked at the thick white gauze wrapped around his uncle's hand, and then at the stiff way he was favoring his leg. "You're hurt," the boy said quietly.

Uncle Daryl looked at the four of them, recognizing the deep, quiet terror in their expressions. They had already been buried alive once; they couldn't handle losing him, too. His expression softened. "I'm all good. Come on," he told them. He held his arms out, bracing through the pain, and lifted Rick smoothly into the wagon bed.