In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 16

"Everybody wants to be a cat." 

Erica 

I didn't really know what to do as the woman came up to me, smiling widely, completely unaware of the tension in the room. I found myself stupidly opening and closing my mouth as I grasped for words. What's this? Me, rendered speechless for once? Well played, life. Well played. That doesn't change the fact that she just semi-blew my cover in front of my current crew. I'm in for a hell of a lot of questions when we get out of this mess.

"Thank goodness you're here." She grasped my hands in hers, leaving me to balance my rifle in the crook of my elbow. "Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing. He needs his asthma stuff." 

"O-Oh." I blinked. I looked up to see Toothpick staring at me with clear surprise. Actually, everyone has similar expressions at the moment, some ranging to complete disbelief to total confusion. How this woman somehow recognized me without noticing that we were about to have a shootout is beyond me. "Uh... Mr. Gilbert needs his asthma stuff, guys. Don't leave him hanging." I tried, offering a helpless shrug. When you're about to be gunned down, it's best to act natural and casual as though it isn't a big deal, right? Right. I think I saw that on TV once.

"Carlito didn't find it." The woman seemed extremely distressed. I pulled out every ounce of sympathy I could muster. Who knew I'd have to be pretending to be an FBI agent during the literal end of the world. Scary.

"You know her?" The man who'd wanted to shoot us up looked scandalized somehow. I shrugged helplessly, turning back to stare down at the little old woman, who was looking at me like I could actually do something. Her nursing home had some wonky shit going on in it, and Castiel had tried questioning a cat at some point. I don't know. It's really all a blur, but I can clearly remember the cause. I know that Fred Jones, a friend of dad's, was the one behind it: making people's hearts burst out of their chest when they saw a pretty girl, and dropping giant anvils on people. Damn psychokinetics.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hernandez. We- oh, okay. I'm going with you now." I laughed awkwardly as she began to pull me through the crowd of potentially-dangerous men. Rick, T, and Daryl, though confused, used this to their advantage. They kept their weapons at the ready as I was all but dragged through the warehouse.

"He needs his medicine." The woman said. I nodded in complete agreement. 

"Wait a second, I recognize you!" Toothpick called. "You're that FBI agent!" 

My cover's been completely, totally blown, and my wig; snatched. Daryl looks like I just punched him in the gut. Nice. "Mrs. Hernandez, I'm here about a missing person. A boy named Glenn. I've teamed up with the Sheriffs department," I glanced back at Rick, who gave a firm nod, "to track him down. Have you seen him?"

"The Asian boy?" She smiled, taking one look at Rick's badge and deciding that there's no way we could be lying, despite my lack of a suit. And the fact that the dead are walking, and eating people. "He's with Mr. Gilbert. Come, come. I show you." 

Promising.

"What the hell is going on?" T-dog hissed at me. Rick and I shot him a look that clearly stated that now was not the time nor the place. God, I am so screwed. Just when I had them hooked on that whole hunter thing where I travel across the fifty states, this comes back to bite me in the ass. I've never been the best at making up lies. I can act just fine, but constructing an entire, believable backstory takes brain power only Sam has.

"Let 'em pass." I heard Toothpick sigh, resigned. We got lucky. I don't doubt they would have shot us for these guns had we not cooperated after a few minutes or so. Mrs. Hernandez led us through the garage area to some back buildings, and the entire group of Toothpick's lackeys followed behind as well.