A Path Of Blood And Brains

Maggie stood in the kitchen, her hands absentmindedly stirring a pot of water on the stove as the kettle began to whistle. Steam filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs. Her thoughts drifted to Arthur Morgan—the enigmatic man who had entered her life not long after the fall of Atlanta. He had walked onto the Greene farm with his daughter, Clementine, during a time when chaos reigned.

She admired Arthur from afar. There was something undeniably attractive about him. With his rugged looks, big shoulders, and deep voice, he embodied the very essence of a classic outlaw from the 1800s. It was a cliché, but it was one she found deeply appealing. There was a certain warmth to him, too—a kindness that shone through his rough exterior. She had spent countless hours trying to convince him to sleep with her, but time and again, he had rebuffed her advances. Still, she was making progress; he had started to flirt back, even if only a little. It was a small victory, one that filled her with hope.

But as she stirred the tea, she found herself pausing. A sudden scream pierced the afternoon air, echoing through the quiet of the farm. "Help!" The desperation in the voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Daddy!" she shouted toward the back of the house, panic lacing her words. "Come quick! Someone's hurt!" The second that she heard the scream, her mind raced through the possibilities. Arthur? Otis? But as she turned to the window, she caught sight of two unfamiliar figures sprinting through the field toward the house. "Daddy!" she called again, her heart pounding in her chest as she snatched the shotgun propped against the front door.

"Maggie? What is it?" Hershel rushed toward her, his eyes widening as he noticed the weapon in her hands.

"The sick?" he asked, concern etching his features.

"Alright, let's see what's happening," Hershel replied, stepping toward the front door. "If someone's hurt, it's only proper to help."

"Be careful, Daddy," Maggie cautioned, her grip tightening around the shotgun as they both stepped outside. "Daddy?" she gasped as they approached the frantic men.

"Please! You gotta help!" one man pleaded, collapsing to his knees, blood soaking through his clothes. He cradled a young boy in his arms.

"Is he bitten?" Hershel asked sharply.

"Shot. By your man Otis. You Hershel? He said to find you," the man gasped, desperation lacing his voice.

"Get him inside," Hershel commanded, turning back toward the house. "Quickly now." He called for Patricia, urgency in his tone.

The man's companion helped him up, and they stumbled through the screen door that Maggie held open for them. "Where's Otis and Arthur?" she asked the man's friend before he could follow them inside.

He silently gestured over his shoulder, and Maggie turned to see Otis in the distance, running toward the house, his face a mask of concern. And then she spotted Arthur, sprinting after Otis, a deer slung over his shoulder, moving with surprising speed. She sighed, shaking her head at the sight before heading indoors.

"Maggie!" her father called from the bedroom as she set the shotgun aside. "Pain meds, coagulants—I need everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol."

"Yeah!" she responded, rushing deeper into the house to gather the supplies.

———

"Rick?" Maggie asked, having learned the man's name moments earlier. He looked pale, fresh off his blood donation, and in desperate need of care. "You need to drink." She refilled his glass with fresh peach juice, her voice softening. "And eat, even if you don't have an appetite. Your boy's gonna need more blood, so you have to replenish yourself. Can't have you bedridden, too. That won't help anybody."

Finally, he complied, sipping the juice and nibbling on a sandwich Clementine had prepared. "Your group, your wife... where are they?" she pressed as she poured herself some juice. "Where can I find them?"

Rick shared what he could, and with urgency, Maggie dashed out of the room to seek help.

As she left, she collided with Arthur in the hallway. "Oh! Hey, Artie," she greeted with a grin, only to notice his expression twist with annoyance at the nickname.

"You're headin' out, huh? Well, I'm comin' with ya. And before you argue, don't think for a second I'm lettin' you go alone. We don't know who these folks are, and it ain't safe to be out there by yourself," Arthur insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She sighed, surrendering. "Fine!" She brushed past him, feeling his presence close behind.

As they descended the steps, Arthur spotted Clementine peeking out from behind a wall. "Hey there, darlin'. You just stay in our room, alright? Don't go talkin' to no strangers, understand?" he instructed gently.

Clementine nodded, though curiosity flickered in her eyes. It had been months since she had seen anyone else, but she trusted Arthur's judgment. Hurrying to the back of the house, she retreated to the small ex-storage room that served as their shared space, where two bedrolls lay waiting.

Outside, Maggie picked up the shotgun again and tossed it to Arthur, who caught it effortlessly. He cocked it back, a practiced motion that stirred something within her.

Mounting their horses, they set off toward the highway. As they rode in silence, Maggie could feel the tension in the air, but she wasn't about to let it linger for long.

"Arthur," she started, her voice light and teasing. "You know, for an old coot, you're looking pretty good today."

He glanced sideways at her, a bemused expression on his face. "Old coot, huh? I reckon that makes you a young fool, Maggie."

She laughed, undeterred. "Oh, come on! You're just seasoned, not old. And besides, there's something about that rugged charm of yours that's quite appealing."

Arthur shook his head, his lips twisting into a half-smile. "You're really tryin' to butter me up, aren't ya? I'm just a scruffy old man who's seen too much."

"Scruffy? Please! You could charm the pants off a rattlesnake," she shot back, a playful glint in her eye. "Admit it, you've got that whole outlaw vibe going on. It's sexy."

He chuckled, a genuine sound that sent a thrill through her. "You really think I'm charmin'?"

"You're definitely charming in your own rugged way," she teased, leaning closer. "You could at least admit there's something here between us."

"Between us? I'm just an ugly old man, Maggie. You've got plenty of options out there," he replied, his tone teasing yet firm.

She sighs in an exaggerated way. "You're not ugly! You just don't know how to appreciate your own worth. I'm not looking for some pretty boy; I want someone who knows how to survive. And you, Arthur, are that man."

His gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of interest breaking through the façade. "Alright, maybe I'm not the worst-lookin' fella out there," he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips. "But let's not get carried away. You need to stop this foolishness before it gets out of hand."

Maggie felt a surge of satisfaction at his flirtation, even if he was trying to rein her in. "Oh, come on! Just admit you enjoy the attention," she said, her tone light.

"Alright, alright," he relented, shaking his head, though a smile lingered. "But that's enough for now. Focus on the task ahead."

Maggie grinned, feeling victorious in her small conquest for the moment. "Fine! But you know this isn't over, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Arthur replied, amusement glinting in his eyes as they rode on.

Just moments after they had set off down the highway, the muffled sounds of voices carried through the trees, snapping their attention back to the forest bordering the road. The chatter grew louder, a mix of urgency and confusion that sent a ripple of unease through Maggie.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah, sounds like trouble," Arthur replied, his tone shifting from playful to serious in an instant. Without another word, they urged their horses toward the sound.

As they rounded a bend, the commotion intensified, and then—a piercing scream shattered the air, a woman's cry that made their hearts race. Without hesitation, Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop, urging it forward. Maggie followed closely behind.

When they broke through the underbrush, Arthur's keen eyes quickly took in the scene before them. A woman, likely in her thirties or early forties, was on the ground, desperately trying to crawl away from a grotesque figure that clawed at her. The undead, with its decayed features and tattered clothing, was intent on its meal.

"Hold on!" Arthur shouted, his voice firm and commanding. He knew the shotgun was only effective at close range, and there was no time to waste. He galloped forward, adrenaline coursing through him as he approached the struggling woman. With his impeccable aim, he steadied the shotgun, took a breath, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the forest, and the undead fell lifelessly to the ground.

"Are you Lori? Lori Grimes?" he asked. She looked up at him, confusion clouding her expression, her eyes darting between him and the lifeless creature.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. He turned just in time to see a woman emerging from a group that had rushed up behind him.

"I'm Lori," another woman confirmed, her voice shaky.

"Your husband sent us," Arthur said urgently, tilting his head toward Maggie, who had caught up with him. "We need you to come with us, right now."

"What?" Lori replied, disbelief written all over her face.

"There's been an accident," Maggie chimed in, her voice steady but filled with urgency.

Arthur's expression hardened as he delivered the news. "Your boy's been shot, ma'am." His tone was straightforward, stoic.

"He's still alive," Maggie added quickly, her voice firm yet compassionate, "But you've got to come now."

Despite their urgency, Lori hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"Come on, woman! Your man's waitin' on ya!" Arthur urged, impatience creeping into his voice.

With a sudden burst of determination, Lori unbuckled her backpack and moved toward Maggie's horse. But just then, a redneck with a crossbow stepped forward, a wary look on his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We don't know these people! You can't get on that horse," he said, his voice gruff.

Maggie quickly interjected, "Rick said you had others on the highway, the big trafficking snarl?"

"Uh-huh," an Asian man in the group nodded, his mouth hanging open in surprise.Arthur turned to Maggie, searching for a plan. "Then, uh, backtrack to... what's that place called?"

"Fairburn Road," Maggie replied, her mind racing. "Two miles down is our farm."

"You'll see a mailbox. Name's Greene," Arthur instructed, urgency radiating from him. He turned back to Lori. "Let's get a move on. Hiyah!" With a snap of the reins, he urged his horse forward, and Maggie followed suit, galloping off, back to the farm.