The loss of the farm had been devastating, on so many levels. Not only had they lost their safe refuge...their pastoral respite from the neverending nightmare that had become daily life, but they'd lost so people. So many people: Andrea, Patricia, Shane, Jimmy, Dale...Jacqui, Jim, Amy. And Sophia! Would it ever stop? No! It probably wouldn't. And that was the depressing truth.
Emory glanced over at her sleeping daughter and wondered how much more a little girl could take. Who was she kidding? She wasn't that sure how much more she herself could take, without cracking or changing. Like Rick.
Ever since that night by the fire things had been different. Rick had become so cold and harsh. He fiercely protected the group, absolutely! But now he barked out commands like a general ordering troops. Long gone was the warmth and laughter of the good-natured father she had come to know and admire. What was even more heartbreaking was to watch Carl as he too began to harden, mimicking and learning from his father.
Carl had even started treating Lori just as coldly as Rick did, and at times Emory couldn't believe the things that came out of his disrespectful mouth. The old Rick would never have tolerated it and Lori simply winced and said nothing. But this was between the Grimes, she reminded herself.
Carl was only three years older than her daughter, Grace, and Emory reflected back on how they used to play together back at the quarry and then at the farm like normal kids. Back in the early days of the outbreak, Emory told Grace they were pretending this was that camping trip she'd always wanted but that lie had been long since extinguished.
Strangely the only person Emory could really relax and stand to be around for any length of time was Daryl, the gruff hunter. Lori and Carol were getting on her nerves more and more lately. To be fair, Emory knew she had no right to judge but she couldn't help but wonder how things would be different if Lori hadn't slept with Shane. Maybe Rick and Shane would still be friends if she hadn't driven that wedge between them. A wedge that looked to be about six months along now. But Emory also knew things were never that black and white. Nor did anyone ever really know what went on in a marriage once the doors were closed.
And that comment Carol made about Rick not being a man of honor, drove her up a wall. The man just had his best friend try and murder him and still his priority was to keep every one safe and together. But that wasnt good enough? From a woman that let her husband beat her daily and lust after her daughter? But then, hadn't she too stayed in her dysfunctional marriage longer than was healthy.
She began to slow down when she saw Rick signaling for them to pull over up ahead. In the past few months she'd become expert at siphoning gas, hot wiring cars, sewing flesh back together, skewering dead people with a variety of weapons, and learning to appreciate a variety of ways to eat squirrel and rabbit. If the 'ladies who lunch' could just see me now, she grinned wryly as she looked at her short scraggly nails and her makeup free face in the rear view mirror. Emory thought back on her days of weekly salon appointments followed by lunch where she would only pretend to eat, and then shopping with women she loathed yet pretended to adore.
Maybe its me, Emory wondered? Why do women annoy the piss out of me? Well, not all women. She had really liked Maggie, Beth and Andrea. She and Andrea used to try and one up the other in target shooting.
When Emory's husband beat and raped her, that was the first and last time, which was why it irritated her that Carol allowed Ed to hurt not just her but was lusting after Sophia. There wasn't a person in camp who wouldn't have supported her and given Ed the boot.
But am I really any different, Emory scolded herself? Maybe that's why it bothered her so much? Because she could see herself in Carol?
Sure, she had noticed Bryan's drinking escalating as well as the paranoia and controlling behavior, but all the other brokers drank heavily and celebrated extravagantly she rationalized. She figured his need for control was because of his work. Also why it was so important to Bryan that she always looked perfect. To the poing where he even began scheduling Botox appointments. He went on and on about how her appearance reflected on him. He said it was a symbol to the other brokers and CEO's. He made a point to provide her the best of everything. Tiffany jewelry, Louboutin shoes and Hermes Birkin handbags were weekly gifts. our search? We're just going aimlessly house to house now," she saw Rick immediately get defensive.
But she left Brett as soon as she was discharged from the hospital. After she filed for divorce, she was the one ostracized. Not that she really gave a shit. It was like she was watching a tv show; an anthropological study on the mores of a strange yet fascinating tribal people, like on the Discovery Channel. In reality it was more 'Bitchy Housewives of Manhattan'.
Apparently she had violated 'The code'. And by leaving Brett and publicly exposing what a piece of filth he was, she had likewise tarnished his colleagues simply by association. After that, his colleagues had trouble getting their kids accepted into the 'right' schools and others weren't allowed to purchase in the 'right' buildings because they were rejected by co-op boards. Still, his firm hadn't cared, as long as he had the Midas touch.
Snapping out of her reflections, Emory pulled to a stop and put the car into park.
"Gracie. Stay here ok!" Emory clicked the locks again and walked over to where the others were huddled, a ratty map spread atop the hood.
Emory stood back and let the others debate what route to take as she listened to them go back and forth. She had been just about to speak when she caught Daryl staring at her in that cautious way he has. Immediately she paused to run a self-conscious hand over her hair. She felt her hair and it was still mostly secured in the braid. Maybe there's crap on my face? Emory then wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
That was when she caught that evil smirk on his dirty but handsome face. She gave him a glare realizing she'd just been fucked with, but couldn't keep the humor out of her eyes. This was why nobody was ever afraid of her. She just couldn't stay angry...well other than at Bryan. But surprisingly, Daryl nodded to her, encouraging her to speak up.
"Em, Rick? I think we need to at least talk about the kind of place we are looking for. Maybe target our search? We're just going aimlessly house to house now," she saw Rick immediately get defensive.
"Aimlessly?" Rick's voice grew stern and his eyes narrowed at Emory. Emory swallowed hard, realizing she was actually afraid of Rick.
"I know we're doing the best we can. And most important we are all still together. I was just thinking that if we targeted our search we might find it faster, rather than hope we just run across it. I agree with you Rick. There has to be a place where can build a new life. But what is it? I mean, are we looking for a gated community we can fortify? Maybe a high school? After Columbine the newer ones were built with secure exteriors and often an interior courtyard. Or maybe a hospital or police station? A mansion with an entirely fenced property?" Emory spoke fast before she could chicken out. But Before Rick could rip into her, the others began offering up their own thoughts.
"If we had a courtyard we could farm. Plant some crops. Maybe have some goats or a dairy cow? Chickens?"
"A place that we can secure...and defend."
"Somewhere with a generator , maybe add solar,"
"Clean water."
"Alright! Emory's right. We do need to target our search! Now lets go over this again. Where would we be most likely to find something like that?" Rick began running his fingers over the roads on the map.
"Well, I remember driving past a private boarding prep school just on this side of the North Carolina-Georgia border," Emory recalled, walking over to the map to point it out. "It had a tall fence all around it and had this beautiful brick building on top of the hill. You'd be able to see for miles."
"I think I know that one. Rabun-Gap," Hershel spoke up. "The Jameson's sent their boy to school there. Must have been a good school since he later went to Harvard."
"Oh yeah. Wasn't that Doug? I had such a crush on him before he left," Maggie remembered the cute blond boy. Glenn gave her a pinch on the ass, which only made Maggie smile bigger.
"Well we are already this far north so we should at least take a look. It will likely start snowing soon. We still keep all our options open but lets keep trying to head north towards this Rabun-Gap school. We will find something!" Rick's exhaustion was evident as he sighed and folded the map.
"Ima go see if I can catch us anything!" Daryl spun on his heel and started towards the woods. He didn't like it that Emory's jeans were getting looser and her little girl wasn't getting bigger.
"Take Emory with you," Rick ordered, catching them both a bit off guard. But neither she nor Daryl was in the mood to argue with Rick right now. It just wasn't worth it.
"Watch Grace for me!" she bored holes into Rick's weary blue ones, before hurrying to catch up with Daryl.
She knew he preferred hunting alone but Rick had been extra cautious since the farm so she did her best to follow behind quietly. She'd gone with him before but mostly she ended up just carrying his kill. She wasn't as silent as Daryl but she had gotten better than she used to be. It also gave her an excuse to admire his muscular arms without having to worry about getting caught.
"Why didn't ya speak up sooner?" Daryl asked her out of the blue. It was getting cold and there was little out moving, so he broke his usual rule of complete
"What? I mean I did!" Emory was still surprised he was even talking to her. He didn't usually say anything while hunting.
"Nah. I mean before today? Ya obviously been thinkin on it," he turned accusing eyes on her. But then complimented her. "It's a good idea."
"I don't know. Rick's just been so...different since we left the farm. I was afraid he would think I was challenging him. That he'd tell me and Gracie we had to go off on our own, like that one night," Emory looked away, not wanting to let Daryl know how afraid she was. "Send him a postcard."
"Ya and Gracie ain't going nowhere!" Daryl ground out with so much vehemence he surprised himself. He spun around, suddenly embarrassed to look at her. She was easily the prettiest woman in the group. In fact she was the prettiest women he'd ever seen in real life. And she didn't even seem to know it, which was probably why he liked her.
And also why he avoided the hell out of her and situations like this. It just made him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. She'd probably laugh hysterically if she knew some of the things he'd been thinking about her. That he'd jerked off picturing her.
No, she wouldn't laugh. It would be even worse. She would smile at him all nice-like, then give him some crap like, 'it's not you, it's me'.
"Daryl?" he startled as he felt her small hand touch his arm. "Thanks! Thanks for saying that! I hate to think how Grace and I would do if we had to go out on our own!" her large grey eyes had moistened over and seemed to swallow him whole
"Emry," Daryl shortened her name even further. "You and Grace ain't going nowhere," not without me anyway, he added silently.
"Ain't nuthin out here. Let's head back and find that place ya'll been talkin bout," he pulled her along, his heart thumping so loud he was sure he had already scared off any game that might have been there.
They headed north for a while, keeping on the lookout for herds as well as possible safe havens. It was difficult and slow-going at times. In fact they'd had to back track multiple times. They ended up jogging east, and then south a ways to avoid the herds. Frustrated and tired, they had to again retreat and were no closer to this prep school. But they managed to find a large abandoned farmhouse set off by itself, not terribly different than the Greene's farm. It wasn't technically abandoned since they had to shoot three walkers roaming around inside.
The good news was that the farmhouse was situated in the middle of the property, so they would get decent warning should more walkers head their way.
Inside, Beth was already sitting at the kitchen table playing with Grace while Carol opened up some canned goods they'd found in the upstairs kitchen cupboards.
"Carol, I'm going to check the basement. Maybe they have some emergency supplies down there." Emory offered. They'd found some beans, tuna fish and some tomatoes upstairs in the kitchen but not much else.
Emory knew the basement had already been cleared but she still carried her knife and gun with her. Simply a matter of habit. She looked around the dark room, raising the lantern to see better. Dusty shelves were piled high with crap and brick-a-brack. A couple of boxes were labeled Xmas, but everything else was a musty, disorganized hodgepodge.
"Oh shit," Emory squealed. A mouse took off, racing over her booted foot before finding a safer place to hide. "I hate mice," she bit her lip, well aware mice were the least of her worries anymore. Then she heard steps on the stairs.
"Ya ok? Heard ya squeal?" Daryl joined her as he immediately started looking around.
"Mouse attacked me," Emory tried to joke but she still shuddered involuntarily.
"Find anything worthwhile down here yet?" he continued looking around, but also keeping an eye on her...and her attack mouse. He began pulling things out and taking stuff of shelves.
Emory found another door, sort of hidden in the corner. "Daryl? Did you already clear in here?" She looked over at Daryl who immediately pushed her behind him, his body tense and ready.
"Don't think so. Not sure anyone saw it? Get yer knife out and stay behind me!" he ordered. With a rush he shoved the door open and prepared to slaughter anything that moved.
Emory stayed glued to Daryl's back, soothed by just his closeness. He was sweaty and dirty but she still liked the way he smelled. Kind of like leather and the woods.
"Well would you lookee here," Daryl stepped foreward pulling Emory along behind him. He grabbed the lantern from her and illuminated a root cellar, with dozens and dozens of neatly stacked mason jars.
"Oh my Daryl! Look at all this!" Emory's eyes suddenly danced in delight at all the food.
"There's tomatoes, cucumbers, beets, carrots, corn, green beans." Emory rattled off contents as she looked through the shelves and Daryl held the lantern so she could see. Daryl was standing so close to Emory in the dark, narrow cellar that he was practically on top of her. In fact, her entire body was pressed firmly against him. Her hair was no longer in a braid but was now loose and hanging down her back in waves and he caught a faint whiff of orange blossoms and something else. Vanilla, maybe?
"Oh my god! Look here! Strawberries!" she grabbed another jar off the shelf.
"I can't wait!" she nearly fainted with anticipation, telling herself it was the preserves and not Daryl's close proximity. Daryl could hear the excitement in her voice so he took the jar from her and swiftly twisted.
"I mean we'd be remiss if we didn't at least try it just in case its bad. No point getting anyone's hopes up right?" Emory rationalized with a conspiratorial wink.
There was a loud whoosh from the vacuum being released and then the lid came off. But before he could set the lid down Emory greedily stuck two fingers in, scooping out a heap and sucking it off her fingers, eyes rolling back in her head as she savored the flavor.
"Oh My God! That is amazing! You have to try some," before Daryl realized what she was doing, she repeated the motion, and scooped some into his mouth, using the same two fingers.
It was Daryl's warm soft mouth sucking the sweet preserves off her fingers that stilled her. Zings of pleasure raced through her and suddenly she couldn't even breathe. She met his eyes, and she was trapped by the intensity if his gaze. Unable to look away, she slowly withdrew her fingers which just prolonged the pleasure.
Oh God! What had she just done? She spun away from him to hide her shame.
"Jeezus Daryl. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Emory's face was on fire as she kept babbling. "I'm so ashamed!" she couldn't face him, terrified she might start crying.
Daryl's gut clenched and he berated himself for being so stupid. During those few seconds while his tongue swirled around her fingers he could have sworn she wanted him. And God knows he wanted her. Not as a friend but for more. But watching her turn away in shame and immediately Merle's voice reverberated through his psyche. 'Nobody's ever gonna love ya but me.' Like she would ever be into him. Maybe someone like Rick, but never him.
"Of course yer fuckin' ashamed! What? Did ya just got carried from the sugar rush and decided on slummin' it in the basement, with the stupid redneck huh!" he grunted as he slammed his hand against the door jamb. But he welcomed the physical pain to the burning he felt in his gut. He hadn't felt anything for anyone like he did her, and now to have her disdain shoved in his face. But it was his own fault. He shouldn't have been so stupid.
His words confused Emory. He sounded so angry. Hurt even. She spun around to look at him, bewilderment on her face.
"Daryl?" she reached for his shoulder but he just angrily shook her off.
"Don't fuckin' touch me," he growled, reminding her a bit like an injured animal.
"Well, that's what I was apologizing for in the first place, you grumpy shit!" she yelled back at him, unsure where her courage came from. Maybe adrenaline because something strange was coursing though her body, like a drug.
"I was trying to apologize. I know you don't feel like that about me, and suddenly I'm putting my fingers in your mouth ... like some sort of hussy?" she babbled as she tried to explain. Make him forgive her. Give her another chance. She couldn't lose his friendship. Did she just say 'hussy'? She inwardly groaned.
"Daryl I'm sorry. I know it wasn't fair of me. To put you on the spot like that after all you've done for me...for Gracie," she felt tears beginning to pool and her voice cracked.
"Did you just accuse me of 'Slumming it'? You think me coming on to you is 'slummin' it'?" she asked, suddenly recalling the strange accusation and trying to understand. It was all getting so confusing.
Daryl stared at the wall of canned food, gripping the wall for support as he listened to her incoherent babble. It was hard to understand her, but it sounded like she was apologizing for coming on to him. Like she had no idea of the effect she had on him?
"Emry, I caint understand a damn thing yer saying. Ya either want me or ya don't," Daryl couldn't believe he'd just said that. Fuck! He slammed his hands against the wall again, desperate to get out of there. Away from her.
"Of course I do. I mean how could I not? I mean, you must know I do! But I know you don't...," before she could even think of a way to explain, he spun around and slammed her back up against the shelving, attacking her lips. Hard! Like a man starved he kissed her. She had never been kissed like this. With so much hunger and need and craving.
She tasted a faint coppery trickle of blood as her teeth cut into the tender flesh of her lip. But she didn't care. It was the most exciting, exhilerating feeling she'd ever experienced.
She leaned into his warmth and crept her hands up around his neck, threading her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Boldly, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lower lip, then slid her tongue inside to do some of her own exploring.
When she did that Daryl felt the blood roaring in his head as his lips continued to slide back and forth, his tongue greedily exploring. Ever since she'd said, 'of course' to his question he'd lost the ability to form coherent thought. He still wasn't sure this was happening, but he wasn't ready to stop and find out if it was a hallucination either. He grabbed her hair and pulled it so he could have access to her neck. He bent down to run his tongue along the vein that was pulsing wildly. Her breath was in his ear, husky and warm, and his dick twitched in his pants when she moaned softly.
"Daryl? Emory?" Carol's voice broke the spell. Daryl jumped away from her, eyes wide like a deer in headlights and Emory stood there panting, struggling to catch her breath to even speak. But if she didn't Carol would come downstairs to find them.
"We're fine Carol. Just found a cellar with some canned goods. We'll bring everything up in a sec," Emory prayed she did not sound like she'd just received the absolute best kiss of her entire life.
"That's great. I can't wait to see what I have to work with," Carol yelled back, standing at the top of the stairwell yet unable to see them.
"One word Carol. Strawberries!" Emory yelled, except the reminder of the strawberries brought an immediate return of desire to both Daryl and Emory.
"Strawberries!" Carol squealed in delight. "Hurry! I'll tell the others!". But then suddenly Emory was back with Daryl in the cellar again. She shuffled side to side and struggled to say something thoughtful or witty. Or would he say something? So she simply stood there.
But Daryl just turned away from her and started gathering up jar after jar of canned goods, which irritated the hell of of Emory. How could he kiss her like that and then just say nothing. Ignore her!
"Hey Daryl?" she pulled him back. "Ya either want me or ya don't?" she threw his words back at him. But instead of feeling put on the spot or uncomfortable, he felt amazing. With a smirk, the closest Daryl ever came to a smile, he turned back to face her.
"I think I was a shitload more clear than you were!" Daryl's eyes were devouring hers and Emory had a glimmer of what his prey likely felt while he was hunting.
"Touche Mr. Dixon! Touche" Emory couldn't help but laugh at how right he was, as she followed him up the stairs, arms loaded with jars.
But before he opened the door at the top of the stairs he turned to her. "Grumpy shit?" he accused. "I ain't grumpy!"